


Witch Doctor

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Brotherhood, Brothers, Dark Magic, F/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Multi, Practical Magic AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9449324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: Practical Magic AU.Frank Enstein-Morte has had magic in his bones since he was born, and he knows that’s a curse more than a blessing. With the curse of the Death Beetle looming over his head, he casts an Amas Veritas spell, tying his soul to a woman he thinks cannot possibly exist. Or so he thinks.But after his brother, Spirit, gets into a bad stint with an abusive Medusa Gorgon, ending in an accidental murder, a revival, and a second murder, Miss Marie Mjolnir, Private Investigator comes a-knocking. And it isn’t for pleasantries. Now, while Stein is realizing that his dream woman has manifested before him, he realizes that he can’t lie to her. Which isn’t so opportune when he’s being questioned for murder of the woman whose soul is still clinging to Spirit with a hell of a vengeance.





	1. Chapter 1

_"I put a spell on you_  
_Because  you're mine."  
~Jay Hawkins_

* * *

 

* * *

 

Lord Death’s eyes were alight as he looked from Stein to Spirit, the two of them leaning in, waiting for him to tell them the story, and he spared a sly glance at Excalibur, lifting a brow. “Should I tell them?” he asked, and Excalibur rolled his eyes as Spirit gasped.

 

“Uncle Death! You told us you’d finally tell us!” he said, practically bouncing. His long, floppy red hair, somehow natural despite all odds, got into his eyes, flicking over his face, and Lord Death almost grinned.

 

“Hmmm, I don’t know?” he teased, and, now, even Stein seemed a tad distressed.

 

“You said you would,” he accused, more than willing to twist his arm and hold him to his word. Lord Death could have scoffed. He’d faced down worse than a ten year old with a deadpan far too advanced for his age.

 

“Oh, fine, fine!” he said, looking from one to the other before his eyes softened. “Leave it to you kids to want such morbid stories for yourselves.”

 

“. . .morbid?” Spirit asked, his wide green eyes getting even bigger. “Is it. . .sad?”

 

Stein from beside him scoffed. “So what if it is?” he asked, far less caring about whether things would be depressing or not, and Spirit twisted his mouth.

 

“Oh, shut up, Ein Stein!” he teased, the old nickname making Stein roll his eyes. Though they were both Morte boys, Frank and Spirit, they all only ever referred to Frank as ‘Stein’. It was a name he got from his mother, Golda Enstein, that he hyphenated into his own name when she died. Spirit, similarly, had added his mother’s maiden name to his after her own untimely death, making them Frank Enstein-Morte and Spirit Albarn-Morte. But brothers all the same.

 

“Hush hush, boys! Or do you want to miss the story?”

 

Spirit eeped, crossing his legs pretzel style and made the motion for zipping his lips, while Stein snickered beside him.

 

“All quiet?” Lord Death asked, looking from one boy to the other before he grinned. “Good! Now. . .where should I start. . .hmmmm. . .I wonder-“

 

“Perhaps that it began in the 6th centur-“

 

“Shut up, Excalibur, for the love of all things-“

 

“Well, it did. It was a sunny, raining day and-“

 

“Hush!” Lord Death said, this time more forcefully, with a hell of a glare, and the two young boys seated on the carpet did little more than blink. “Point taken. I’ll get on with it. Goodness, no one appreciates suspense anymore.” He sighed. “Anyway. . .for more than 200 years we Morte men have been blamed by everything that's ever gone wrong in this town.”

 

Spirit looked at him with wide, nervous eyes. “Is that why people hate us so much, Uncle Death?”

 

Lord Death shook his head immediately. “No, they. . .they don’t hate us, Spirit. . .We just make them a little. . .nervous.”

 

Excalibur snorted. “Oh, please. Let’s face it, we Morte men have always had a target on our backs. It all began with your ancestor, Marcus, who was born on a hot day, when the breeze blew at below freezing-“

 

Death nodded. “Marcus was a witch-“

 

Excalibur, not one to be outdone by anyone, least of all Lord Death, butt back in. “Like me! He was the first in our family and I am-“

 

“And you boys are the most recent in a long and distinguished line.”

 

Spirit looked from one of his uncles to the other before he fully settled on Lord Death, his eyes wide and his mouth almost hanging open.

 

“Is that. . .is that why they wanted to hang him? Because he was a witch?” he asked, and even Stein seemed to shoot Spirit a disapproving look for the question. Lord Death didn’t look like he really knew how to answer for a moment, but seemed to collect himself after just a second.0

 

“Not. . .I mean, that was part of it. . .the fact that he was a flirt didn’t help. Nor did it help that most of his partners had husbands and wives on the hanging committee.”

 

“Oh,” Spirit said, looking down.

 

Lord Death looked at him, but it seemed as though he was more looking through him. His eyes seemed far away. “No, Spirit. . .it was because they. . . feared him. He had a gift, you know? It was a power that has been passed on to you children. And me. And your sorry old Uncle Excalibur. He had the gift of magic.”

 

“Spirit doesn’t have magic,” Stein pointed out, almost cruelly, and Spirit looked at his brother with the most hurt expression possible.

 

“Spirit’s magic is just different from yours, Stein,” Lord Death chided. “All Morte men have magic. And it’s that same magic that saved Marcus’s life. And his baby’s.”

 

“Wait, he had a baby? How?” Spirit asked.

 

Lord Death gave Excalibur a sharp look when the man opened his mouth, as though to say that he would murder him if he went into the birds and the bees conversation so soon.

 

“One of his lovers was pregnant, before she died during childbirth. So he was the caretaker.”

 

Spirit nodded, wringing his hands at the idea of dying during childbirth. So like his own mother. “. . .how did he survive being hanged?” Stein asked from beside his brother, and Lord Death looked at him.

 

“When they kicked the stool from under him, the rope broke. Some call it coincidence, but we know the truth, don’t we?” This time, Stein nodded. “They did, too. For the most part. So, he was banished to this island with his son by his side. And he waited for his lover-“

 

“Another lover?” Spirit asked, tilting his head to the side.

 

“Ah, but this one he really _loved_. Not just wanted to. . .be with.”

 

“Why do they call them lovers if they didn’t love each other?” Spirit asked innocently.

 

“Well-“

 

“Because they-“ Excalibur began, and Lord Death shushed him immediately.

 

“You’ll know when you’re older.”

 

“. . .oh.”

 

Lord Death nodded, pleased with his explanation, though everyone only looked at him exasperatedly. “Anyway, he waited for his true love to come for rescue him. . .but he never came. No one came. So, in a moment of despair, he cast a spell upon himself that he would never again feel the agony of love.”

 

Stein mumbled something, then, but Lord Death paid him no mind. “And as his bitterness grew, that spell turned into a curse. A curse on anyone who dared to love a Morte man.”

 

Stein spoke up this time, his expression practically unreadable. “Is that why mother died? Because of a curse?”

 

Lord Death nodded sadly. “Yes, it is. Your father knew. . .he heard the beetles ticking for your mother’s death all day long. He knew that when you hear the sound of the deathwatch beetle the person you love is doomed to die.”

 

“And. . .is that what happened to Mom, too?” Spirit asked, looking sad and scared. Lord Death knew that the death of Spirit’s mother in particular hit him the hardest. The two boys were only half related, with two different mothers, but the same broken hearted expression affected them both. Lord Death nodded before he realized the consequences, and after looking at Stein and Spirit’s downturned expressions, Lord Death backtracked. “But that's how you came to live with us and we've raised you the best way we knew how.”

 

At that, Spirit, at least, quirked up a smile, remembering that there was no bedtime and that there was always chocolate cake and cookies and brownies, even for breakfast, if they wanted. And that there were nights when Lord Death would sit and knit with Spirit and Stein reading in the living room, not to mention several nights, like this night, where they’d gorge themselves on sweets and sit about, waiting for their magic lesson, and getting a story, instead.

 

Excalibur, loud and brash as always, finally broke in once more. “Oh, please, the only curse in this family is sitting there at the end of the table. Your Uncle Dante.”

 

Lord Death looked aghast as the somber mood was thoroughly broken. “Oh come on, Excalibur! Even you have to admit that anyone who gets involved with a Morte man is bound to end up 6 feet under.”

 

Excalibur rolled his eyes, lifting up his glass of whiskey. “Spare me.”

 

Lord Death scowled. “Then how do you explain what happened to my dear Maba? Huh?”

 

“It was an accident,” Excalibur said, dismissively.

 

“And your Arthur?”

 

“An. Accident,” Excalibur repeated. Lord Death looked dismayed.

 

“It was fate!” he urged, to no avail.

 

“Accident.”

 

“No, no! It was fate!”

 

Stein finally cracked his own smile at that, but it looked forced and uncomfortable, and he was about to break up his uncles bickering before Spirit piped up.

 

“Did. . .Uncle, since mommy died because of the curse. . .did daddy die of a broken heart?”

 

The two men paused, looking over at the young child sitting cross legged on the rug. Stein scowled.

 

“You can’t die of a broken heart, stupid,” he said, cruelly, and Spirit gaped at him.

 

“Yes you can! Can’t you?” he asked, looking at his two uncles for advice, and Lord Death looked from one young boy to the other.

 

“Well. . .yes, Spirit. He did.”

 

“See!” Spirit said, looking at Stein with a hurt expression. “Just because you don’t believe in love-“

 

“Shut up,” Stein muttered, and Lord Death shook his head.

 

“Boys. I think that’s enough for Story Time,” he declared, and the two didn’t seem as though they were going to protest anytime soon. “In any case, the two of you need to go and do some spells! What do you say?”

 

“But we have homework,” Spirit proclaimed, chewing on his lip.

 

“Pish tosh!” Excalibur said. “You’ll learn far more from _me_ than some dusty math books. Let’s go,” he said, standing up and making his way to the kitchen to set up the magic lesson. Lord Death rolled his eyes, but smiled at the two.

 

“I’ll help you with your homework, later,” he promised, but Excalibur was already coming back into the room, looking aghast.

 

“I heard that. Homework shmomework. Doesn’t even mention me and my story-“

 

“You don’t _have_ a story, you tired old bat,” Lord Death claimed, standing up and bickering with his own brother as the both of them made their way into the kitchen, and Spirit looked over at Stein.

 

“What do you say? Magic lesson?”

 

“Magic lesson,” Stein confirmed.

 

When Spirit cracked a smile, it was genuine, this time.

* * *

 

The living room had always been beautiful to Stein and Spirit, both. It was full of books, the windows large and the curtains somehow always seeming to wisp in the air. It had a delightfully old feeling to it all, what with the threadbare rug that still somehow managed to be comfortable, and the large chair in the corner that Lord Death would sit and knit on.

 

But the kitchen? Oh, the kitchen was where dreams were made of. There were countless bottles of various plant goods, rosemary and thyme and belladonna, but candles lined the shelves and there were bottles of old liquid that the two boys could never even hope to understand. In the highest shelf was a large, black book, bound in something almost ancient, that the two had always wanted to look into, but worried about getting caught.

 

Still, for the time being, what they were doing was enough. And what they were doing was sitting at the table, chocolate smeared over their cheeks and lips from a surprise brownie that Lord Death had brought out from seemingly nowhere, trying to light candles just by blowing on the unlit wicks. Spirit pouted.

 

“I can’t get it, Uncle Cali!” he protested, scrunching his lips over to the side and giving a helpless look over at his Uncle, to which Excalibur could only laugh. Lord Death, however, was watching carefully over Stein, watching as the young boy closed his eyes for a moment before cracking them barely open, leaning upon the table.

 

He held his breath as Stein expelled his, blowing on the wick and, with seemingly no effort at all, lighting it ablaze.

 

“Very good, Stein! You’ve been blessed with a gift!”

 

“Hey!” Spirit said, eyebrows furrowing. “What about me?”

 

“We don’t worry about you, Spirit. We know your talents will emerge in time.”

 

Excalibur and Lord Death shared a quick laugh, but it was quickly interrupted. The knocking was so loud that it seemed to reverberate throughout the entire room, and Stein and Spirit turned to look at the side door with matching confused expressions, but Excalibur stood up. “Spirit, move your brother into the living room. Just keep thinking of your spells.”

 

“Yes,” Lord Death agreed, standing up quickly and shooing the two out. “Keep working on your spells. We’ll just be a minute.”

 

And next thing the two boys knew, they were banished back to the living room, left to do little more than listen in as Lord Death asked where the bird was and the sound of the two of them rummaging through the kitchen permeated the air.

 

The two could do little more than look at each other for a fast moment before pressing their ears against the door.

 

“Do you have the bird?” Lord Death asked, and Excalibur scoffed.

 

“Do you have the book?”

 

There was a quiet sound of confirmation before the two boys heard the door clacking open and the sound of heavy footsteps coming into the kitchen. It was only then that the two of them dared to crack open the door, looking in and watching as a young man walked into the house, his hands shaking.

 

“God, finally. I just-“

 

“Please, sit down,” Lord Death said, and the man looked at him for a moment before he nodded, falling into the chair that Stein was previously sitting on heavily, looking at the book on the table. The one that Stein and Spirit both always wanted to leaf through. Now, however, it was Excalibur leafing through it, and Stein managed to catch a fast glimpse of some darkness, something that might have looked like dried blood, from far away.

 

But it couldn’t be. His uncles didn’t deal with that particular side of the craft, that shadowy world of landmines.

 

And they didn’t, as Excalibur only continued on as though undisturbed, coming to the page he was looking for and glancing at the man at his table.

 

“Yes?”

 

“I just. . .okay. Okay. I just want him so much. I can’t think about. . .about anything else and I don’t sleep. I. . .he has to leave his wife. Now. He has to leave her, now,” the man said, looking particularly intense in the moment, and Lord Death looked over at his brother before he glanced at the man at the table with kind eyes.

 

“Perhaps you might find one better suited?”

 

At this, the man turned to look at Lord Death sharply. “I don’t _want_ anyone else, damnit! He’s all I think about and- fuck, why _else_ would I come here?”

 

Lord Death’s kindness drained from his face in a fast moment and he nodded, then, looking at Excalibur, who shrugged.

 

“Take the money, Dante.”

 

Spirit watched as the dollars were exchanged, all in a large roll, before Lord Death walked over to a cage and pulled out a dove, handling it so delicately. Stein, from beside him, seemed to creep in closer to his brother, the two of them standing in solidarity, looking through the tiny crack in the door, watching as Lord Death held the dove and Excalibur brought out a large needle.

 

There was something metallic in Stein’s mouth.

 

“You have to stab it. With your heart’s desire,” Lord Death instructed, just as Excalibur handed over the needle to the man, and he looked at it as though in wonder. For a moment, it almost seemed as though he would reject the entire thing, wash his hands of the dirty business. But then, in the next instant, his expression set, and there was almost something giddy in it.

 

As though excited.

 

 **“** I want him to want me so much he can't stand it,” the man said, jabbing the needle straight into the dove without a second thought, and Stein felt a shudder come through him, hunching his shoulders in, but watching the blood drip down down down.

 

Lord Death grabbed the needle as Excalibur found the various herbs, starting up the incantation. As Lord Death inspected the needle, making sure it was fully coated in blood, he cocked his head to the side. “Be careful what you wish for,” he claimed, mysteriously, before walking to the other end of the table to join his brother, ready to finish the spell.

 

Spirit watched as the man smiled, looking relieved before he reached into the left breast pocket on his shirt and pulled out what looked like a scrap of paper. In a flash, as the man brought it to his lips, both Spirit and Stein could make out the glimpse of a face: no doubt the image of the man that this desperate man wanted to leave his wife.

 

“How stupid,” Stein muttered. “I hope I never fall in love,” he remarked, looking at the scene with something sick in his stomach. To lose control in such a way.  . .reduced to nothing more than a hopeful, desperate mass at a table . . .

 

But Spirit, instead, watched as a smile bloomed over the man’s face, something lighting him from within. The passion. . .the emotion. . .the _excitement._ “I. . .I can’t _wait_ to fall in love,” he admitted.

And they stood. And they watched. And they pretended nothing had happened when their uncles cleaned everything up and escorted the man out with something in a vial and muttered words to encourage him home.

* * *

It was far later in the night when Spirit finally woke up to pee and noticed that his brother’s bed was rumpled, but empty.

 

That wasn’t entirely unusual, so Spirit only grumbled to himself , walking the short way to the bathroom and knocking on the door.

 

“Hey, I need to pee! Hurry up!”

 

But when no sound came out, no equally as grouchy “Wait your turn!”, Spirit’s brows furrowed and he knocked once more. “Hey?” he asked, before pushing at the door and finding that it was empty.

 

Okay, now _that_ was weird. If he wasn’t in the bathroom, where the hell else could Stein possibly be? Spirit went to relieve himself, but the instant he did, he crept down the hallway, looking left and right and whispering softly.

 

He’d managed to check most of the hallways, the balcony, the porch outside, the living room, and the other bathroom before he finally heard a noise from the kitchen and stopped in his tracks?

 

“. . .Stein?” he asked, slowly making his way over. “Stein, is that you?”

 

He only heard more quiet chanting, the soft noise of his brother’s voice, but it was dark, and scary, and he didn’t know who it could have been. Perhaps someone was impersonating his brother.

 

“Stein, if you’re messing with me, I’ll kill you,” Spirit stage whispered, and when he finally cracked the door open, realizing that it was, in fact his brother, he could breathe a little easier.

 

And then he noticed what he was doing.

 

Spirit was watching Stein, his brows furrowed in confusion as his brother walked around the greenhouse, plucking various leaves and petals off of herbs and plants and muttering to himself. “She’ll have. . .heterochromia. One eye brown and the other. . .gold. No! She’ll lose one. And she’ll be. . .tiny, but so strong she could pick me up and carry me, if she wanted. She’ll whistle my favorite song perfectly-“

 

“Hey,” Spirit called out, peaking from behind the bookshelf that he had used to cover himself from Stein’s weird ability to tell when people were around. “What are you doing?”

 

Stein barely even looked at him, his hands taking a single petal off of a sunflower and looking at it, carefully. It was a long while before he finally spoke up, and Spirit was ready to walk off and go to sleep, sure that Stein wouldn’t divulge any secrets, that night.

 

Instead, his brother surprised him. As he always did. “Summoning up a true love spell called Amas Veritas,” he said, as matter of fact as though he were telling Spirit that his eyes were green. Spirit almost choked on his spit as he watched Stein continue speaking, now with more conviction in his voice. “She can flip pancakes in the air with just one hand and she’d be particularly kind,” he said, throwing all the various plant-parts he’d collected into a small bowl. “Her favorite shape will be a star. And she’ll laugh with a snort-“

 

Spirit looked incredulous. “Thought you never wanted to fall in love!” he exclaimed, blinking at Stein blankly, and he scoffed at him, turning to look at him with a complete and total deadpan. Sometimes, Spirit felt as though Stein could put rocks to shame with his poker face.

 

“That's the point, idiot,” he said. “She doesn't exist.”

 

Spirit seemed even more blank than before. “Uh. . .then why cast the spell?” he asked, scrunching his mouth to the side.

 

“Because,” Stein said, looking off into the distance, into the full, heavy moon, “if she doesn't exist, I’ll never fall in love. And if I never fall in love, I’ll never suffer.”

 

Spirit could do nothing more than look at Stein, his eyes heavy as he watched his best friend, his brother, take a few steps out into the balcony. The wind was cold, uncharacteristically so, and it tousled Stein’s hair so it landed in his face without grace. But Stein didn’t do anything but hold the bowl out in front of him, and Spirit felt that familiar spark of magic echo out against him. It was almost as though he could feel it when Stein did anything magical, a sensation that, in of itself, wasn’t odd. After all, they were brothers, blood or otherwise.

 

Spirit watched as the petals and leaves flew up above Stein in what looked to be a small spiral, carried higher and higher on the wind until they disappeared from sight.

 

And everything was warm.

 

And everything smelled of lavender.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Ten Years Later_  **

* * *

 

 

Spirit hauled his suitcase over to the window, already open and bringing in a comfortable breeze into the room he shared with Stein. Who, speaking of, was doing little more than looking at him with a brow raised.

 

“Running away, again?”

 

“It’s not running away if I’m technically an adult,” Spirit replied gleefully, bringing his suitcase outside, leaning out of the window where he could see his boyfriend of the time, or, as Stein liked to refer to it, Spirit’s Flavor of the Week, standing out in the yard. “Hey, babe! I’m throwing the suitcase down, alright?”

 

Boyfriend whatever his name was must have nodded because next thing Stein knew, he just heard a thud as the man caught the suitcase, likely filled to the brim with Spirit’s various hair dyes and clothes. Spirit turned to look at Stein, smiling.

 

“Well, that’s the last of it.”

 

“Are you certain you can tolerate him for longer than a month?”

 

“I’m not sure I can stand him for even a week longer, but, hey. He’s got a car and he’s headed to LA, I might as well.”

 

“Spirit.”

 

“Oh, come on, Stein! I can’t stand it here. I want to. . .to travel. To see the world. To go where no one can chant ‘Witch, witch, you’re a bitch!’ at me.”

 

Stein shook his head, running a hand through his silvering hair. He was barely 17, still just a child by most people’s standards, and Spirit was only four years older than him. Still, it stung, slightly, that Stein was arguably the most successful of the two of them. He’d been accepted into his university of choice, an Ivy League, when he was just 14, deciding that he would go into pre-med and was only home because it was summer and he’d decided to take a small break to see his brother. They’d been together, practically inseparable, for well near to two decades, attached at the hip. Hell, after Stein skipped a grand total of three grades and Spirit, in comparison, failed one and had to stay behind, it even left the two of them in the same grade with the same graduation date.

 

When Stein first left for University, Spirit had stood in the room, looking the same as Stein was, now: as though he would lose his brother, forever. Though, then, Spirit also harbored the slightest tinge of jealousy. There his brother was, going out into the world, able to have a fresh start in a school that never knew of the curse on their families. Frank Enstein-Morte: weird, certainly, but not a name that caused immediate concern and fear mongering. And Spirit was forced to stay behind and walk down the small streets and look at all the people he’d hooked up with who would never stay because they knew of his curse, knew of his fate.

 

“Hey, don’t be so down. I’ll write. And call,” Spirit assured, crooking a smile at Stein. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

 

“I’m not down.”

 

“Yeah, as though you _don’t_ look like this is the last time you’ll ever see me,” Spirit teased, and Stein rolled his eyes.

 

“It very well might be.”

 

“Oh, please. Of course you will. You can always see me again. Remember? We said we’d grow old together, just you and me living in this old-ass house. Two decrepit old dudes with all these cats. I bet we’d even die on the same day.”

 

Stein didn’t look amused. “Yeah? What do you bet that on?”

 

Spirit looked thoughtful for a moment before some sort of realization came onto his face and he whirled around, yelling out the window. “Babe! I need your pocketknife!”

 

Stein quirked an eyebrow. “You’re betting on a foreign knife?”

 

“No, stupid,” Spirit quickly replied, flipping the knife open and flexing his hand before bringing the blade to his hand and hissing as he dug in.

 

“Ah, yes, I’m the stupid one. You might need stitches for that.”

 

“Oh, shut up. It’s shallow enough. Come here.”

 

“Pardon?” Stein asked, and Spirit only indicated for the other man to give him his hand. After a few seconds, Stein finally took the few steps forward and with a long suffering sigh, slapped his palm into Spirit’s hand. “Don’t hit a vein.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Spirit said, making a shallow cut across his brother’s palm, smiling as Stein did little more than twitch his lip at the pain. “There. I bet on it in blood.”

 

Stein looked down at their bleeding hands. “Stupid bet.”

 

“Yes, well, a bet none the less,” Spirit remarked smugly, letting go of his brother’s hand just to clap their palms together. “Your blood, my blood. Our blood. You’ll see me again. I swear.”

 

Stein looked at him once more, but this time, the hostility was all gone. “I’ll hold you to that.”

 

“I hope you do,” Spirit said, grinning at his brother before he let go of his hand. “I’ll miss you, little bro.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

And, with that, Spirit finally crawled his way out of the window, calling for his boyfriend once more before he jumped from the ledge, and all Stein heard was his brother laughing when his boyfriend undoubtedly caught him.

 

Stein looked at his blood-smeared palm, but he didn’t clean it away.

 

And he waited until the sounds of the car were gone gone gone.

* * *

**_Two Years Later_  **

* * *

 

Stein always forgot how boring home could be when he returned during his measly breaks to spend time with his family. And, often, that time would have clearly been best spent with his nose in his books, preparing for his infinite exams.

 

But home was home. There was something about it that called to him, as though his blood were metallic and that the soil itself was beckoning him to return, as though ferromagnetic.

 

Though, it wasn’t truly home unless Spirit was there. It was never really home unless Spirit was there.

 

Currently, however, he was walking with his Uncles down the street, looking more like a raincloud than anything else what with the bored scowl on his face. It didn’t strike him just how much he’d grown up until he was beside his uncles. Once, he barely reached his Uncle Death’s (and how silly that nickname seems, now, that he knows his name is Dante) hip. Now, he towers over the both of them, standing a solid head and shoulders above.

 

And, it seemed, it wasn’t just his height that seemed comical. The entire family was a theater performance if he had ever seen one.

Lord Death, however, seemed unperturbed by the variety of hostile looks that graced him. He took a glance at the man Stein remembered to have run the nearby butcher shop, along with his two sons. “Good morning. Hello, boys. Charlie! Looking good!” Lord Death exclaimed, but the man, Charlie, only turned his way around and quickly rushed in the opposite direction. “God, what was I thinking?” Lord Death muttered, and Stein didn’t much want to dwell on the possibility that his uncle was going out and hooking up with various people. He shuddered.

 

“Can we simply retrieve the mail before all of your ghosts come back to haunt you?” Stein grumbled, and Lord Death rolled his eyes.

 

“Yes, yes. Though I’d say the only ghost ‘round here is you. You’re paler than death.”

 

“Ha,” Stein said, dryly, but his uncle Excalibur was already harassing the mailman to hand over their mail and had come over immediately.

 

“Oi, Spirit’s in Orlando,” he said, easily, tossing the letter to Stein, and he fumbled with it, trying to catch it properly.

 

Lord Death paid no mind to the nonchalant nature of his brother. “Oh, how exciting! He’s in Orlando! Did you hear that, Stein?”

 

“I’m not _deaf._ ”

 

“Careful,” Lord Death warned, “I might start calling you Franky again.”

 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Stein remarked, jabbing his fingernail in the side of the envelope and ripping it open.

 

“I can and I would, young man,” Lord Death threatened playfully. “And, speaking of young men, I suppose Spirit’s newest flavor of the week didn’t work out, either?”

 

“I suppose that botanist is history,” Excalibur muttered, rummaging through the mail.  


“I thought he was dating that pretty wedding planner woman?”

 

“No, no, I remember. He was with the roto-rooter man-“

 

“I’m somewhat amazed that he keeps going through all these people,” Stein said, pulling out the paper that his brother wrote to him and reading it as they all started making their way back to the house.

 

“Well,” Lord Death said, “maybe someday he’ll find someone who will go through him.”

 

“Not likely,” Stein remarked, having finished reading the letter and folding it up, stuffing it into his pocket.  But Lord Death had already moved on to more important matters, such as greeting the various people on the street.

 

Excalibur rolled his eyes, walking behind the both of them. Sometimes, he really thought he was the only one who knew what true suffering was in that damn house.

* * *

 

The house was always infinitely more boring and empty without Spirit. Stein always came to the room they used to share, where the beds were infinitely too small for them, and he’d sit and rifle through the million and one books that he’d brought along, insisting that he could eat just fine by himself and, if the uncles could, just leave an extra plate in the fridge.

 

Frankly, sitting at a table perpetually set for four was getting to be all too damn depression. And considering he was clinically depressed, that was _really_ saying something.

 

That night, in particular, Stein sat and blew on the candle he’d blown on as a child, trying to practice his magic. Spirit never could do it, a point of perpetual pride for Stein, but sometimes he wished his brother had even half the magic that he did. Communication, at least, would have been infinitely easier.

 

Stein had started giving up on Magic, but it never did give up on him. It wasn’t that he was like Spirit, who just wanted to feel normal, to _be_ normal, no. Stein knew he was too strange for anyone to consider normal, but he was a man of science first and faith second. His mother had been Jewish, had left him a golden Star of David on a delicate chain that he wore for a solid five years before he got too conflicted.

 

It was too much of an identity crisis for him. Jewish in a Pagan house, a man invested in facts and the empirical. To hell with all of it, truthfully.

 

Stein sighed, blowing out the candle before him, and closing his eyes.

 

Wishes had never done too much for him, in the past. But he really did want his brother there. Loneliness knew how to yawn in his very bones. Spirit didn’t help that so much as distracted him from it. Not that that was much fair to his ridiculous brother. The two of them had always been something similar to oil swirling in water, but sometimes they meshed, came together. Hemoglobin and plasma. He wasn’t sure which was which, though.

 

Stein scoffed as he stood up, stretching and cracking his neck, allowing his spine to pop. He sat hunched over half the time, so his vertebrae were certainly displeased with him. They’d have to join the club, frankly.

 

How was it that he could be so close to becoming a doctor, one who was about to graduate with honors from a hell of a prestigious university, all on a full ride, and he felt so. . .empty? He knew it didn’t much matter, he was going to go back to university at the end of the summer and work hard and get incredible grades and carve out a future for himself, but then, he always thought: what came after that?

 

Nothing, maybe. Everything. He enjoyed medicine to the capacity that he could enjoy anything else. It preoccupied him and so he was interested in it. He’d been getting special permission from the department head so he could explore some theses that he’d conjured up. On blood-borne diseases, in particular. But after that? What would interest him, then? Would anything?

 

Up in the sky, the moon curved like a great, giant, mocking grin, and Stein rolled his eyes. When he got too into his head, he started thinking up weird shit. Or, so Spirit used to say, back when he ever bothered to say much of anything that wasn’t written down. Stein shook his head, looking at the bed that seemed suddenly all too comfortable not to use.

 

When he turned off the lights and laid down, at least he could stop thinking.

* * *

 

Stein woke when something started poking him between the eyes, and his brows met in the middle, a groan slipping from his lips. But the poking wouldn’t stop, and when Stein finally opened his eyes, it was to a shock of red hair darkened to crimson in the light.

 

“Wakey wakey?” Spirit said, grinning, and Stein groaned.

 

“What time is it?”

 

“Skin o clock. I don’t have a watch.”

 

“Smart ass,” Stein responded, yawning. “What are you doing back?”

 

“Eh, the electrician didn’t work out.”

 

“Shocker.”

 

“Funny. You’re a master of comedy.”

 

“Mmmm,” Stein said, closing his eyes, but not able to help the new feeling of lightness that he had, knowing his brother was back. “Are you here to stay?”

 

“Maybe,” Spirit said. “At least as long as you’re here.”

 

“That so?”

 

“Mmmm. Kind of felt like you needed me, here.”

 

Stein opened his eyes once more at that, looking at his brother. He supposed his Uncles had been right, when they were children. Spirit’s talents truly had emerged in time. Including his unshakable empathy and intuition. “It’s more tolerable with you.”

 

“Yeah, I figured as much,” Spirit said.

 

“You know, I have to go when the semester starts up. That’s soon,” Stein admitted, and Spirit nodded.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You came back for more than me, hm?"

 

"What? I can't want to visit my brother."

 

"Cut the shit," Stein said, yawning. "If you're stuck here, you can write. To keep yourself sane, that is."

 

Spirit grinned, ruffling his brother’s hair, understanding it was a plea as much as an invitation. “Sure.”

* * *

 

Spirit was stuck. As much as the summer had passed by well, what with half of it spent on various beaches making out with various people, the other half was spent with his brother back home. Not that that was bad, and not that he didn’t miss Stein, but now?

 

Now Spirit felt stuck. It was a good two weeks after Stein went back to University and Spirit kept promising he was going to go ASAP, but he just didn’t get around to it. Instead, he was where he’d been for the past month: sighing as he trailed behind his uncles during their daily mail run, watching as Lord Death tried to be friends with everyone in the entire town. “Hello! Oh, hello, how are you?” Lord Death asked, smiling pleasantly as small children ran to their mothers, away from him.

 

“Oh, Dante, give it up,” Excalibur said, rolling his eyes.

 

“Never,” Lord Death replied, waving at another couple that was walking by.

 

“Just knock it off!”

 

“Guys,” Spirit said from behind. “Could you, I don’t know, not make life any harder by trying to make buddy buddy with people that hate you?”

 

“There is nothing wrong with making buddy buddy,” Lord Death defended.

 

“Oh, come on. Don’t you just want a normal life?”

 

Lord Death scoffed. “Naïve boy, when are you going to understand that ‘normal’ is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage.”

 

“Yeah, well, it seems real appealing right about now,” Spirit said, rolling his eyes as Excalibur, once again, harassed the post office workers. Lord Death shook his head.

 

“Listen here, look at those two,” Lord Death said, pointing to a couple walking down the street with their child in a stroller, and Spirit raised a brow.

 

“Yes?”

 

“He’s having an affair with the babysitter, and she eats glue sometimes. Normal doesn’t exist!”

 

Spirit snorted despite himself, watching as the couple sped up and walked off even faster, and he was in slightly better spirits due to the fact, watching as Uncle Excalibur waved the mail around, throwing a letter to Spirit from Stein.

 

“We got what we needed?” Lord Death asked, and Excalibur nodded, pointing forward.

 

“Back home we go!” he declared, and Spirit snorted, shaking his head and following. Nothing had changed, it seemed.

 

Except, well, something.

 

As they walked, Spirit noticed a new face in the crowd, and, were he better at poetry, he would be able to describe her better. But, truthfully, all he could notice was that she was downright gorgeous.

 

Her long black hair was messy, getting in her face with every wind that passed by, and she pushed it out of her eyes with the back of her hand, ringless, Spirit noticed.

 

When she caught his eye, his brows went up, but he smiled at her, sheepishly, waving a little.

 

The smile she threw back at him was so unexpected, so completely and totally overwhelming, that Spirit all but ran into Lord Death as he walked, and when Lord Death caught the giggling woman’s expression, all he could do was look at Excalibur.

 

Maybe they’d find a way to root Spirit, after all.

* * *

 

Lord Death scowled from over the sheet he’d laid down on the table, checking and rechecking the ingredients. “What time is it?” he asked, impatiently, but Excalibur rolled his eyes.

  
“Any moment now,” he assured, and, sure enough, as though prophecy, they saw Spirit run out of the house, his red hair unkempt as he attempted to tug on his jacket whilst making his way out. And, in the distance, Lord Death could see a woman running toward the house, as well, her black hair shining in the sunlight.

  
Lord Death was grinning. “Where are you going, dear?” he asked Spirit, but Spirit said nothing back as he all but sprinted his way over to her, and the Uncles high-five each other over the table.

 

Spirit would find someone to go through him, indeed.

  
Most excellent.


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear Stein,_

_Today is Kami and I’s third anniversary and all I have to show for it are 2 beautiful little kids and a wife that I just can't stop kissing. I don’t even mind the diapers or her in-laws. God, Stein, I wish you could see us. Remember how I always just wanted to feel normal? Go somewhere where no one knew who I was? Well, everyone here knows who I am, but it’s actually okay. There are no more stones being thrown and no taunts cried out. People love Maka and Blake. You saw them, so you’d know that Maka charms everyone she meets, just like her mama. And even though Blake is adopted, he’s every bit Kami and I’s son as Maka is our daughter. People actually like us. Love us, even. Kami was the best thing to ever happen to me. Well, other than Maka and Blake. It’s just that everything is just so blissfully normal, now, with them._

_Life is perfect._

_Your loving brother,  
Spirit._

* * *

.

.

.

* * *

 

If he had known today would be the day that everything he loved and everything he cared about went to shit, Spirit Albarn-Morte wouldn’t have woken up that morning. He would have begged Kami not to go to the store. He’d had a bit of a cold, so she promised to go and stop by the grocery store before she picked up the kids.

 

Not today, damnit. God, please, not today.

 

Spirit heard the beetle. He heard it ticking and calling for blood. He knew his children were safe, still in class, but now was around the time that Kami took her lunch break and he knew because she’d called him just twenty minutes ago and said she had just enough time to pick up some ingredients for soup and drop it off at the house before she had to be back at work.

 

If he’d known twenty minutes ago what he knew now, he would have pleaded for to go back to work. Don’t bother with the store. Don’t worry about any of it.

 

Spirit was ripping up floorboards, his hands slamming out, trying to squash the bug.

 

“Where are you, you little bastard?” he snarled.

 

He had tried calling Kami. Tried calling and calling and calling. But so long as the beetle was ticking, he knew she was still alive.

 

One could not call for the bones of someone already dead.

 

Spirit was doing everything he could. Because he knew he didn’t have the time to run out. And that fucking beetle had been the bane of every person in the Morte family line’s existence for generations and it was damn time they fucking fought back.

* * *

 

_Kami was walking down the street, yawning. The woman known only as Auntie waved at her, grinning._

_“As I live and breathe, Kamiko. How are you kids?”_

_Kami stopped, looking over and smiling. “Wonderful as ever! How’s your brother?”_

_“Oh, you know. He’s doing. Should be back with some fish soon enough.”_

_“Well, I hope something’s biting, today! It’s been relatively dry, recently.”_

_“Oh, you’re telling me,” Auntie said, shaking her head, and Kami heard her phone go off, again. Without even looking at who was calling, she reached into her purse and quieted it, huffing at how rude it would have been to answer a phone call when speaking to someone else._

_“Let me know! My husband’s been feeling a bit under the weather, and if Gustav comes back with any flounder, I’m sure Spirit would appreciate it!”_

_“I’ll keep that in mind,” Auntie laughed, and Kami grinned at her, not particularly paying much attention as she walked off into the street, intent on crossing to get to the small market that always had the best carrots._

* * *

 

Spirit all but sobbed as he ripped up another floorboard. “Please, god, _please!”_ But the beetle didn’t stop ticking, didn’t stop asking, didn’t stop demanding and signaling the end. “I hear you! I hear you! Don’t- god, please, please don’t!”

* * *

 

_“Oh, Kami! I almost forgot!” Auntie said, turning to rummage in her own bag, just as Kami almost made it across the street. “I picked up some extra chocolate for your kids! I know how much Maka loves the ones filled with strawberry jam!”_

_Kami stopped in her tracks, turning toward Auntie. “That’s so kind of you. Thank you so much!” she said, stepping back onto the road to grab up the sweets. Blake especially would be glad to have something sweet, considering he had a spelling test that day._

* * *

 

“No! No, damnit, NO!” Spirit yelled, having ripped up close to half of the floorboards when he saw the beetle slip between one in the far corner. He scrambled to his knees, crawling his way over and wiping his tears from his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “Come out, damnit! Please! That’s- this- no! I know you’re in there!”

* * *

 

_All Kami heard was the gasp. “Behind you!” someone had screamed, but it was too late. Auntie was-_

_the chocolate dropped to the floor, the truck’s loud beep covering up any of Kami’s shriek as it collided with her._

_The very air seemed to freeze, not even a sob being heard._

* * *

When the beetle went silent, Spirit’s world did, too.

 

* * *

 

Lord Death jumped when the door slammed open, his head whipping to the side as Spirit ran in, his face red and puffy, his hands shaking.

 

“Spirit? What’s going on? Spirit?” but when there was no answer, when Spirit only stood there, dry sobbing, trembling, Lord Death stood from his chair, his knitting falling off of his lap. “Excalibur. Excalibur!” Lord Death yelled, rushing forward from the window he was sitting at to make his way toward his nephew, his large hands coming to Spirit’s shoulders, but he flinched away, his voice a ragged whisper.

 

“It was the curse, wasn't it?” Spirit asked, just as Excalibur rushed in, his pants rumpled and his shirt half unbuttoned, but it didn’t deter Spirit in the slightest. “She. . .she died because I loved her so much. . .”

 

Lord Death managed to spare a look at Excalibur, the two of them sharing the same regret on their faces. “Oh, Gods, Spirit, she-?”

 

Excalibur looked grim. “We had no idea when we cast the spell. . .”

 

Spirit went rigid, so cold all of a sudden that the air in the room seemed to be entirely sucked in. “. . .Spell? What spell? What are you talking about?” As he looked from one Uncle to the other, the embarrassment and abashment more than obvious, and Spirit’s heart sank as he curled away from them, his arms coming around himself. “Oh, good Gods, you didn't. Please- please tell me you didn’t?”

 

“You were just- you were always gone. . .off with random women you never really cared about. We just wanted you to. . .settle down a little bit,” Lord Death explained, his voice pitched high with how ashamed he was.

 

“Well, I did!” Spirit exclaimed, horrified and miserable and feeling that familiar deep ache where it invaded every ounce of him, where it threaded through to the very tips of his fingers. “I did. . .I. . .fuck, I _loved_ her,” he told them, shoulders shaking before his arm wiped at his eyes and his expression set into anger. “And I want her back, damnit. You brought Kami into my life so you. . .so you bring her back! You bring her back!”

 

For a moment, nothing happened as Lord Death and Excalibur both exchanged glances, but made no move to do anything, and Spirit’s body language hardened, his shoulders rigid and angry. “Bring. Her. Back!” he enunciated, repeating himself and rushing forward

 

Spirit was livid, throwing things about as he raced into the greenroom, and Lord Death almost couldn’t keep up as he ran after him. “Spirit-“

 

But Spirit had already found what he was looking for, slamming the large spell book that always remained in the house onto the table, flipping through it, his tears streaming down his face. “You two-“ he hiccupped, wiping his face with his sleeve. “You aren’t allowed to do that! You aren’t allowed to bring her into my life and then have her ripped away from me. I want her back! Bring her back!” he demanded, and Excalibur had finally found his way into the greenhouse, his usually uninterested dark eyes strangely damp. Spirit’s face seemed to fall even more, if the action was possible. His voice was choked as he pleaded. “I have never asked you for anything. I- I never even- I never even asked how to- how to use magic and I've never asked you for spells! But-but do this! I know you can bring her back!” he said, sniffling hard as he started turning through the pages with a newfound sense of purpose. His fingers passed by dark spells, ravens embossed on the pages, the paper worn and yellowed.

 

Lord Death swallowed, hating to see who he practically considered his son in such a state. “No. . .no, Spirit. We won't do that.”

 

“ We don't do that,” Excalibur emphasized, and there was something final about it that made Spirit even more hysterical, his fingernails digging into the old book and almost pulling out chunks.

 

“But you can!” he all but yelled. “You can do this. I know you can! I remember- I-  I found it here after mommy and-and daddy died.”

 

Lord Death’s face set. “Even if we brought her back. . .it wouldn't be Kami. It would be something else, nothing like her. It would be dark. And unnatural.”

 

“I don't care!” Spirit sobbed, hunching over the book, his fingers dropping from the book to instead curl hard against the wood, digging his nails in. “I don’t- I don’t care what she comes back as! Just bring her back! Please? Please do this for me?” he begged, looking from Lord Death to Excalibur as he repeated it on a loop: ‘please?’, as though a broken record player. But they didn’t budge. Lord Death, at least, had the shame to look away from him, muttering a soft apology.

 

And Spirit bowed his head and cried and cried and cried.

* * *

 

He knew he couldn’t afford the house without Kami there, working beside him. And, somewhere in him, Spirit knew that his Uncles would send money, and so would Stein. But everything in there reminded him of Kami. It reminded him of sitting on the floor and pulling out floorboards and sobbing and-

 

Truthfully, the very sight of the house he had once grown up in also made something in his chest stutter, but at least it was free of Kami’s ghost. Spirit took in a deep breath and held Maka’s and Blake’s hands all the tighter.

 

“Remember,” he muttered, walking up the somehow much longer walkway than he remembered, taking small steps so that his kids could keep up. “This is only temporary, so don’t get too comfortable. The rules are the same as usual,” he continued. “No chocolate for breakfast, homework done after dinner, teeth and hair brushed before bed. Bedtime story at night.”

 

He couldn’t see his little girl looking up at him with big, wide green eyes, the same as his. But, somehow, even though she looked so like him, he could see so much of Kami in her and he almost choked, the heartbreak so damn _fresh_.

 

When Spirit made his way to his uncles, his eyes were cold, but watery. “As for you two,” he said, looking them both in the eyes so unyieldingly. “You aren’t allowed to teach them any of your damn nonsense.”

 

Excalibur seemed to ignore him, instantly stooping down to pick up the suitcases that Maka and Blake were carrying so he could take them inside. But Lord Death, however, met his gaze head on.

 

“Spirit-“ he began, once more. Just like that night when he confronted them, and Spirit wanted nothing to do with it. Magic was cruelty and anger and had done nothing good in his fucking life. Stein had been right from the start. Falling in love was stupid. They didn’t get that luxury.

 

“Don’t.”

* * *

 

Somehow, it felt as though there was nothing inside of him. And that wasn’t fair to his kids.

 

Spirit spent his days inside, in his room, curled up on the old bed in the old room that he and Stein used to share. And he missed his brother with everything inside of him, but Stein had gotten into his residency of choice and had been licensed and he was well wanted in various hospitals and it would be unfair to ask for him to come home.

 

If this place counted as home.

 

Spirit pulled the sheet over his head, staring at the weave of the plain white cotton. It wasn’t as though he was foolish enough to believe that there was nothing to live for, now, that Kami was gone. There was more to live for than ever, since he had to have twice as much exuberance for his children.

 

But he just couldn’t. His entire body was numb.

 

He heard the door click open and quiet little clacks that indicated that Maka was walking in with her immaculately shined Mary Janes on.

 

“Dad? Papa?” she asked, just as she asked for the past few days, and Spirit wanted to close his eyes and his heart and his thoughts to it all, but Maka was so like her mother. The farthest thing from a quiter. A new strength came into her voice. “Papa, it’s time for us to go to school.”

 

When Spirit said nothing, he heard his daughter huff.

 

“Papa! It’s the same time as yesterday and the day before that, AND the day before that!” Maka said, waiting a moment for Spirit to answer before she stomped her foot and pulled at the sheet. “Papaaaaa! Out of bed, sleepyhead!”

 

When Spirit still didn’t move, she stopped and her voice got slightly more playful. Switching tactics. His smart girl. “You know,” she stage whispered, as though it were all some big conspiracy. “I’m worried about Blake. Did you know that he puts on his mouse ears and drives around town all liquored up? Naked!” Maka proclaimed, and if Spirit pulled the sheet off, he was sure that he would see her arms stretched to her sides as though she were on a stage, performing for some great audience.

 

But Spirit was not great. Spirit felt dead. He thought maybe the sheet could be indicative of that.

 

It was only when Maka sighed that he knew she must have dropped her arms down to her sides, her head likely bowed. “Okay. . .all right, Papa. I’ll. . .I’ll see you around. I guess,” she said, and Spirit’s heart throbbed painfully.

 

Fuck, what was he doing being so damn selfish? She just lost her mother and now she was feeling as though she’d lost her dad, too. Spirit threw the sheet off of his head and reached out, grasping his daughter up around the waist and listening to her squeal as he fall back and dragged her onto the bed, as well. “Come here, you!” he said, putting some false cheer into his voice. “I’m sorry, baby girl. I was just. . .I was just tired,” he excused, giving her a smile as she rolled around under the sheet, her hair a mess but a smile on her face when she looked at him.

 

“It’s okay, Papa! Does this mean you can take us to school?” she asked, hopeful as anything, and Spirit smiled at her gently.

 

“Yeah, baby girl. Just. . .let Papa get dressed, okay?”

 

“Okay!” she squealed, jumping off of the bed and rushing out of the room, likely to give the news to Blake. And the second she walked out, he took a deep breath, the smiling sliding off of his face.

 

No one in that house knew how to understand him.

 

When he got up, pulling on his clothes mechanically, he noticed the candle on the table and frowned, looking down at his hand where the scar of a long ago made pact stood as though memorial.

 

Fuck. He really missed his damn brother.

* * *

 

Life went on as it had to. For a few days, at least. He’d sent out the news to Stein, but he didn’t hear anything back, but even so, Spirit was finally starting to get some semblance of himself back. The shop he’d opened up with Kami, which had been maintained by Blair, Risa, and Arisa welcomed him back like old friends. He breathed in the scent of the shop, took in the clean, brightly lit showcases. Even the sound of the bell made him smile.

 

“Well, welcome back to the world of the living!” Blair said, popping up from behind the counter, and Spirit spared her a small smile. Blair had been the closest thing he’d had to a friend in the entire town. Even after they hooked up when they were just teenagers, she’d never thought ill of him. Probably because she was considered a social pariah, too, what with her polyamorous relationship with Risa and Arisa, which certainly explained why the three of them ended up in his shop.

 

Birds of an unaccepted feather. Spirit sighed. “It’s good to be back.”

 

Blair grinned at him, and Arisa walked in from the bathroom, still drying her hands with a towel, looking surprised.

 

“If it isn’t tall, ginger, and handsome!” she proclaimed, opening her arms, and Spirit laughed as he stepped into her embrace, letting his forehead settle against her shoulder. Blair looked at the two of them with warm eyes. “It’s good to see you, Spirit,” Arisa whispered, and Spirit tightened his hold on her.

 

Life went on.

 

He wasn’t sure he was ready for it.

* * *

 

Truthfully, they hadn’t opened the shop up to the public, that day. When Risa swung by and realized that Spirit was back, she’d immediately insisted upon having a picnic in the middle of the shop, and when Risa had an idea, she couldn’t be swayed out of it. So, there they were, sitting on the floor and chortling into glasses of wine, holding something of a mini remembrance of Kami.

 

Spirit didn’t have too many friends, but at least he kept company with good people.

 

“You know,” Blair said, swirling her glass of wine around and around,  “I always liked Kami. I was gonna try to ask her out but you beat me to the punch, Tomcat.”

 

Arisa made a comical gasp, pushing at her shoulder. “You’d do no such thing!” She whirled around to look at Risa, who had already started to laugh. “Did she talk to you about this?”

 

“Oh, come off it, Arisa! As if she’s being serious. She’d never go after someone if she didn’t have us on board, first.”

 

Arisa pouted, nudging against Risa’s shoulder, and Spirit felt normal for the first time in a while, almost spitting out some of his drink at the ridiculous expression.

 

“Oh, as if she’d go for you, Blair,” he giggled, smiling. “Besides, we all know she prefers redheads!”

 

“Psh! As if your box dye was what convinced her!” Blair laughed, and the four of them all had a good moment that seemed to glow. It was maybe three in the afternoon, and maybe they were just the tiniest bit buzzed, and maybe they shouldn’t been having wine, but-

 

But nothing good ever lasted, anyway.

 

“How’s your wicked papa doing?” a small voice called out, and Spirit’s eyes immediately widened as he scrambled up, listening to the chant of “Witch! Witch! You’re a bitch!”

 

“Fuck,” Spirit said, sobering immediately as he looked outside the large window of the shop to see Blake and Maka holding hands, the both of them with angry looks on their face. “You’d think after so many damn years they’d think of a better rhyme!”

 

Blair tried to follow Spirit out of the shop, as well, but she was a tad too slow as Spirit barreled through the door, coming behind his children. From the crowd, he could see a tall woman he’d once made out with in high school holding onto a boy. The one Spirit assumed had started it all.

 

“What in the world is going on, here?” Spirit asked, eyes wild as he brought a hand down on both his kids shoulders, more to keep them from jumping through the crowd and landing a punch against said boy’s face.

 

“Really, you _troublemakers_ started this!” the woman accused, and Maka puffed up, throwing her hand up to point.

 

“I hate you!” she shrieked, fighting against Spirit’s hold.

 

“Put the finger down, Maka!” he said, but it was too late, Maka’s eyes had a purpose and an intent that he had barely ever seen before, and if he didn’t know any better, he was sure that Blake was sending her some sort of encouragement.

 

“I hope you get-“ she started, and Spirit gasped, feeling the magic prickle his skin just as the entire crowd took a step back and Maka finished her incantation- “chicken pox!”

 

The boy, especially, looked horrified, and the crowd all muttered and murmured to themselves as they all but ran off and Spirit tried to calm the situation. “She was just kidding!” he called out. “She was just-“

 

“No she wasn’t, dad!” Blake said, glowering and pulling away from Spirit’s hold on him so he could grab up Maka’s hand. “She was NOT kidding!”

 

“What is wrong with you?” Spirit hissed, dropping to his knees and looking at both his children, from one to the other. “We do not cast and we do NOT toy with people’s lives, do you understand? This is not a game!”

 

“No!” Maka said, her face pinched and scared and sad and angry. “YOU don’t cast! And you probably couldn’t even if you TRIED,” she finished, turning tail and walking back to the house, stomping all the way. And Spirit could do little more than watch, his heart splintered into bits and pieces in his chest as his kids walked away from him.

 

Even Blair’s hand on his arm didn’t register, anymore.

* * *

 

The bedroom was always where he returned, doomed forever to stare up at the ceiling and wait and wait for someone or something or anything, damnit. He’d walked into the house as though a ghost, a man who had no purpose being there.

 

“Kami,” he muttered, taking a moment to look outside his window, wondering if her spirit was out there, somewhere, watching over him with sad eyes. Or, would she resent him. Resent his curse, his fears, his humanity. Resent him for being the one to live. “Kami, I miss you. I miss you so much,” he said, and he curled up in a ball, turning away from the window and bowing his head.

 

The tears were so common, it was as though to cry was to breathe.

* * *

 

It was sometime in the middle of the night that he felt something poking at his forehead, and he crinkled his brows, batting whatever it was away. Still deep in sleep, the sorrow couldn’t come and gnaw at his heels. But the poke came again, and Spirit was forced from his slumber, eyes cracking open unhappily.

 

“What the-“ he started, but all he saw was a shock of gray, darkened almost to a slate color, and his heart jumped, eyes widening further as he took in the sight of his brother’s face.

 

“Wake up,” Stein said, simply, and Spirit gaped at his brother. It felt like it had been an eternity since he last saw Stein, and he moved on autopilot, lurching forward and wrapping his arms around him, burying his face against his brother’s shoulder. He was still in his Doctor’s coat, the one that Spirit was sure he had gifted him when he first found out he was going to medical school, and surely the arm of it would now be darkened slightly with his tears.

 

“You’re home,” Spirit said, and the tears pricked at his eyes once more.

 

“Yeah,” Stein replied, simply, doing little more than throwing his hand into Spirit’s hair, ruffling it in the general gesture of good natured brotherhood. “Heard you were going through a hard time.”

 

Spirit nodded but said nothing for a long while, simply laying in the bed and sobbing, shaking in Stein’s hold. It was, for once and uncharacteristically, Stein who broke the silence.

 

“Is there anything I can do?”

 

And for a second, Spirit couldn’t reply. He took in a deep breath. “I think. . .I think I need to go away.”

 

Stein nodded, and Spirit could only feel it because Stein’s hair tickled him. “Where?”

 

“Anywhere. Anywhere away from here.”

 

“I have a car,” Stein said. “You can take it, if it would help.”

 

“I- what about- what about the kids?”

 

Stein must have thought deeply for a moment before there was no response, and Spirit’s heart sunk. “I think they should see their Uncle Stein for a bit, yes?”

 

“You’d-“ Spirit started, pulling away incredulously. “You’d watch them?”

 

“I put in time off before I came here- Spirit, damn, give me some fucking warning before you hug me again-“ Stein complained, feeling his brother all but squeeze the life out of him.

 

“They remind me of her so much,” Spirit sobbed. “I love them but- I just-“

 

“You need time away. That’s natural, psychologically.”

 

“I just-“ Spirit continued. “I was just really, really happy.” He hiccupped. “We were- we had started the botanical shop and the kids were happy and she- she made me feel so human, Stein.”

 

“I know,” Stein replied, sighing and closing his eyes. His brother’s letters had been constant and happy beyond belief. Sometimes, Stein wondered if that kind of happiness was attainable by anyone else. And he’d been glad for his brother, really. If Spirit’s happiness meant Stein’s loneliness, he’d take it any time. If that was the deal, it was one he consented to.

 

And now.

 

Now Kami was gone. And Spirit was cooped up in the place of his hell.

 

Stein had his chance for freedom.

 

Maybe it was Spirit’s turn.


	4. Chapter 4

The phone calls were occasional, but always telling. Turns out, Spirit had decided not to take the car, but to find his own way.

 

It had been a few months and Stein was reminded of exactly why he had grown so tired of the town. Even spending time with his niece and nephew didn’t help, sometimes.

 

And Spirit? Spirit had found someone. Someone, as he explained, intense, strong. Strong enough to break the curse, Spirit thinks. Some woman. Melissa Gorgon.

 

Stein didn’t hold out hope.

 

Stein didn’t hold out hope for much. Really.

* * *

 

_Spirit,_

_As irrational and unscientific as it is, often, it is as though there is a hole somewhere in my chest. Psychologically, I understand this is predominately due to my depression. It is an ache that no test or medicine can fix, not even the SSRIs. I’ve had tests done to ensure that my cardio-vascular system is running properly, and, yet, were the X-rays not there as evidence, I could almost ensure that if one listened in, they could hear nothing._

_The moon is red, tonight. A circle surrounding it. Signs of trouble. It’s odd, being a man of science and yet having so much superstition around me. It isn’t proven, but it feels as sure as fact._

_Perhaps magic has ruined me. There are times when I can bet on the fact that it is in the air. And I have never been a gambling man._

_I looked through some of your old, foolishly romantic books, and perhaps I’ve had too much to drink, tonight, but everything is melancholy, now. I’ve taken my medication, do not think I’m so far gone that I have thrown that safeguard down, but it doesn’t seem to help. You had wanted to fade away, Spirit. I’m there, now, and it is dreadfully lonely. The children seem to drive that point home even more. ~~I wonder, sometimes, what it would be like if I had my own.~~_

_I’ve had too much alcohol tonight. And I was right as a child. There is no one out there. There is only the moon._

_Stein._

* * *

 

As soon as he dropped the letter in the mailbox at the end of the block, he had a feeling somewhere inside of his gut that something was wrong. Stein’s stomach twisted into knots in a way it hadn’t since Kami died and he knew Spirit was suffering, and just like then, he immediately took to action, coming into the house with the force of a thunderstorm, only to see Death holding up the phone in confusion.

 

“It’s Spirit-“ he started, but Stein was already a step ahead of him, snatching up the phone.

 

“I know,” he said, before setting the phone to his ear. “Spirit. What’s wrong?” he asked, and waited a few moments, just listening to his brother breathing heavily.

 

“I’m. . .fuck, Stein. I’m scared. Can you. . .can you come and get me?”

 

Stein felt his instincts prickle, the need to defend coming over him in an overwhelming wave. “I’ll take the first flight out, where are you?” he asked, looking over at Lord Death after Spirit told him, hanging up. “Watch the kids,” he said, and Lord Death nodded, looking over at Excalibur who had come out of the kitchen, looking equally as confused.

 

“Just go, Stein. The children’ll be fine. We’ll take them to the Solstic Celebration, won’t we, Excalibur?”

 

“Why can’t you two just stay here?” Stein asked, pulling on his jacket and flitting around, looking for his wallet.

 

“We can’t back out. We’re on the committee,” Excalibur said. “I’m presenting!”

 

“Whatever, fine. But Spirit wouldn’t want them dancing under the full moon,” he informed, finally finding his wallet and calling up a quick message to the kids, not taking the time to say much more to them.

 

“No, of course not, dear!” Lord Death called, as Stein ran out the door. “The nudity is entirely optional! As you well remember!”

* * *

 

Getting to the motel itself, that wasn’t difficult. People tended to listen when a hulking, six foot plus tall man came and demanded to go somewhere. Even getting the key for the room Spirit was staying at wasn’t hard.

 

But this? Seeing him? Now that was the struggle.

 

Spirit’s lip was split, his eye blackening, already bruised. Stein could make out the puffiness of his brother’s face, even in the dim light of the cheap motel, and his stomach sloshed uncomfortably. “Spirit?”

 

“Stein?” he replied back, squinting into the gloom. Undoubtedly, the light from the crappy hallway must have surrounded Stein in a halo that blurred him from sight.

 

“Yeah,” he said, not knowing what else to do other than stand about uncomfortably. Stein knew that Spirit had a habit of trying to drown himself in women after Kami died, but to remain with one when all the warning signs of cruelty were evident from the get go wasn’t like him.

 

Then again, grief did things to people. Spirit was never exactly the same after what happened with Kami. And, even more than that, Stein felt the slightest twitch of guilt at his millisecond of victim-blaming. How could Spirit have known things would go so sour? He had been in a pot of water that slowly came to a boil. It was only natural that he had adjusted to the heat.

 

“The room service here sucks,” Spirit said, a sad attempt at some kind of humor, but Stein didn’t have it in him to laugh.

 

“Let’s go,” Stein demanded, taking two strides to walk to the bed on the other side of the miniscule room, spending the time to look around, the hair on his arms standing up on edge. Quickly, he grasped up Spirit’s duffle bag, some of the things inside of it half spilling out, but Stein stuffed the spare shirts back to the bottom before he looked to the other side of the bed, where Spirit was curled up.

 

Spirit glanced up at him just as Stein’s free hand came in front of his face.

* * *

 

The chill outside could have frozen his very bones, but he was too busy trying to pretend that the ache on his face didn’t exist every time he tried to make an expression beyond neutral. “She’s absolutely nuts. Completely psychotic- no offense,” Spirit said, stumbling over his own two feet, cursing softly. “God, we’ve been driving for two weeks straight. And- shit, not even straight. Just in- in zigzags. Back and forth and back and forth and today we pulled over and she- she wanted one of my cigarettes and I laughed and said that they weren’t menthols, like she liked but she just told me to give her the damn cigarettes and I was gonna make another joke and she- she punched me,” Spirit finished, stumbling once more and landing heavily against the side of the car door.

 

Stein’s hand twitched at his side, as though wanting to come steady his brother, but Spirit stood up straight on his own.

 

“I'm fine,” Spirit assured, his hand pressing against the glass for a long while as he looked out into the darkness. “I’m fine. . .but, fuck, she punched me real hard. . .”

 

Spirit closed his eyes, sighing hard, and Stein’s lips twisted into a frown. “We need to go,” he said, some urgency leaking into his voice, and Spirit nodded, glancing up for a moment before he gasped.

 

“Fuck. Oh, god, there’s blood on the moon. There’s blood on the moon, Stein,” Spirit said, frantic, his hands fluttering around until they settled around his neck, panic coming into his eyes.

 

“I know-“ Stein began, but Spirit cut him off.

 

“There’s blood on the moon, Stein. Danger is- Stein. Stein, where’s my Tiger’s eye?” Spirit continued groping at his neck, as though thinking that the chain that he usually wore would somehow appear as though out of nowhere.  

 

“It’s probably in the bag-“

 

“No, it- It brings me luck. I left it. I left it in the car. I’m gonna go get it!” Spirit said, looking at the moon fearfully before he ran off in the direction of an old looking red car, leaving Stein to stand about, the bag dangling limply from his hands.

\--

 

Stein got tired after just a few minutes, fidgeting around from foot to foot before he rolled his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. How damn long did it take to get one necklace from one car?

 

But as Stein made his way over, pitching his voice louder than usual, it died in his throat. Because what was simply supposed to be Spirit rummaging around as though blind, he was in a blonde woman’s grasp, a gun held up to his head.

 

Melissa, Stein assumed, smiled, her snake’s eyes flashing dangerously in the bare, dim neon lights that illuminated the night around them.

 

“You drive,” she said.

 

Stein dropped the bag.

* * *

 

Stein was starting to wonder just how he had gotten himself into such a shitty situation. From the rear view mirror, he could just make out Melissa Gorgon lighting a cigarette before she held it between two fingers and took a swill of her drink, the bottle making a faint sloshing noise. Spirit looked beyond terrified just sitting next to her, and Stein’s hold on the steering wheel tightened. Melissa looked up, noticing where his eyes were, and smiled. He immediately looked away.

 

“Hey,” she started, her voice a sweet purr. “Do you want some?” When she offered the bottle, Stein did little more than glare into the rear view mirror, where she was watching his expression. She smirked. “I suppose that’s a no.”

 

The silence was particularly unnerving. Stein rolled his shoulders, flicking his gaze back to the road, trying to figure out just how he was meant to get himself and his brother out of this mess.

 

Naturally, she had to break the silence once more. “Hey, Frank,” she started, and he shuddered.

 

“Don’t call me that,” he said, evenly, but Melissa only went on, adjusting herself against Spirit and playing with her lighter.

 

“Frank. Have you ever read any books by Louis L’Amour? Hm?” When Stein said nothing, she went on, unperturbed. “Well, Louis L’Amour is a foreigner and he loved all things cowboy, yes? But he would write stories about rustler and,” now her voice got almost babyish, as though mocking. “Rustlers were really bad guys.”

 

When Stein looked back at the rear view mirror, she was still playing with her lighter, but he locked gazes with Spirit, instead, who took in a deep breath. Stein blinked when he realized that there was the familiar spark of magic in the air, and he heard his brother’s voice in his head, even though Spirit’s lips weren’t moving.

 

“The belladonna is in my bag,” he said, and Stein nodded slowly, having tuned out Medusa in favor for concentrating on his brother. And, slowly, ever so slowly, Stein inched his hand into the bag that Spirit had left in the backseat, his fingers finding the vial, finally listening in to Melissa again.

 

“These rustlers, they would try to steal the cattle. But before they could sell them they would try to take away the brand of the owner with an acid, or by-“ she rubbed her knuckles quickly back and forth across Spirit’s arm, making him wince. “-scrubbing. Unfortunately, they could never get rid of it. So they would be caught.” Melissa flicked her lighter back on, holding it over a ring she was wearing, and Stein realized that very moment that it was what she had been doing the entire time. “And hanged. Come here, Spirit,” she said, adjusting herself and grabbing Spirit up, lifting his shirt as the man yelped.

 

“Melissa-“

 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Stein yelled, almost throwing them into the next lane with how much he swerved, trying to get Melissa to dislodge off of his brother. “Get off of him-“

 

“Melissa, baby, baby, _please. Please-“_

“Shut up! You can’t hide the brand,” she said, eyes crazed. “It’s just you and me, Spirit and-“

 

Stein swerved them harder, almost knocking Melissa into the opposed door with how hard it was, and the cars around them honked harshly.

 

“Watch the fucking road-“ Melissa screamed, but Stein was already wild.

 

“Shut the fuck up. Shut the _fuck up_.” he said. “Rustlers and fucking branding and- Louis L’Amour is not a fucking foreigner. He’s from North Dakota you goddamn _bitch-“_

“Watch the damn road-“

 

“Get the fuck off of him. Get the FUCK off of him! Give me the fucking bottle before I plow all of us into a damn truck just to shut you up!” he yelled, and Melissa scrambled to give him the bottle, watching as he breathed hard and stared at the road ahead, his fingers flexing against the wheel as Spirit whimpered.

 

Melissa grinned after a moment, watching as Stein sloshed the bottle of brandy around, her ring gleaming in the suddenly menacing looking lights of the city. From the rear view mirror, Stein could make out the snakelike nature of her face, cold and sharper than a scalpel, and he gulped down the brandy though it burned down his throat, curling in his guts like a warning.

 

“You know,boys,” she said, stroking a finger against Spirit’s cheek, and Stein wanted to retch, but he settled for tipping the bottle of belladonna into the damn drink, a trickle of brandy coming from the corner of his mouth to his chin. But it seemed as though Melissa was entirely preoccupied with processing and being amused by his little outburst to notice that he had put sedative into the bottle, and was magically stirring it. “I’m feeling very into brothers right now.”

 

Stein shuddered, but when she took the bottle back, at least he knew they had a damn _plan._

* * *

 

“How much did you give her?” Spirit asked, biting at his nails as Melissa went outside to make a phone call, but got too preoccupied with singing.

 

“You are always on my miiiiind~” she warbled, and Stein swallowed hard. “You were alwaaaaaays on my miiiiind~”

 

Spirit shook his head. “She should have passed out by now. You didn’t give her enough,” he accused, and Stein scowled, gracing him with a glare.

 

“I gave her plenty.”

 

“God, what’s she going to do to us?” he asked, his hands shaking. Stein shook his head.

 

“I don’t know. Just. . .stay calm.”

 

He didn’t mention that his own hands were shaking. He had been so deep in melancholy for so long that he’d forgotten what fear was. Maybe being reminded was his damn punishment for not being content with the life he had.

 

Melissa finally made her way back into the car, still holding the keys that she’d pulled out of the ignition to make sure that they were trapped, but she didn’t throw the keys back to Stein so he could keep driving. Instead, all her attention was on Spirit, and he looked scared even as she sang to him sweetly, clearly plastered.

 

“If I made you feel. . .second beeeest. I’m soooooorry. I was bliiiind~”

 

“Melissa- Melissa, baby, please-“

 

“You were alwaaaaays on my miiiiind. . .”

 

“Please, Melissa. Come on, baby, I love you.”

 

But Melissa seemed to pay what he was saying no mind, and her hands came to his shoulders. Stein looked dead ahead, feeling as though, on top of it all, he was a fucking third wheel. Just his luck.

 

“Oh, Spirit. I wanted to be with you forever,” she said, and Stein heard something that sounded like choking.

 

When Spirit said “Melissa- I love you- please- Melissa!”, it was strained, and Stein’s eyes widened as he whipped around.

 

She was choking him. Spirit’s face was bright red as he grasped at Melissa’s arms, but her muscles were showing easily and she was holding Spirit down with seemingly no effort at all and-

 

Stein was up and moving before he could even process what was happening, yelling as he tried to haul Melissa off of his brother. He was thrashing her around this way and that, trying to dislodge her hold, the adrenaline running through his body so quickly that he barely even noticed when she went limp. It was only when Spirit’s voice rang out that anything could get through to him, really.

 

“Stein! Stein! She’s out! She’s passed out! Stop!”

 

Stein took a deep breath, finally pulling away and lifting her off of Spirit, but Spirit’s horrified gasp made him stop in his tracks.

 

“What-?”

 

“Oh, oh god! Oh god, let go of her!” Spirit shrieked, and Stein instantly scrambled off, landing heavily on his ass outside of the car, watching as Spirit sat up and threw Melissa down beneath him, pumping on her chest.

 

“What the fuck, Spirit-?  


“Oh, oh fuck. Stein! Stein, resuscitate her!” Spirit demanded, realizing that his efforts were being made in vain and eventually just throwing himself out of the car, tugging Melissa down in front of Stein where he could see how her veins were prominent and her eyes wide open.

 

Stein’s hands went steady as he checked her pulse, something in him shutting down.

 

“What are you doing!? Give her CPR!”

 

“She’s already dead-“

 

“Oh dear god, oh dear _god_. What are we gonna do? Oh fuck. Oh _fuck.”_

“Spirit-“

 

“How much did you give her?” Spirit asked, wide-eyed and more scared than Stein had ever seen him.

 

“I don’t know, Spirit,” Stein threw back, irritation swelling in him to replace the fear. “I wasn’t in the place to use a graduated cylinder considering she was attempting manslaughter!”

 

Spirit shook his head, bile rising in his throat as he stood up.

 

“She’s dead. Oh fuck, she’s dead. We killed her.”

 

Stein didn’t realize he had lifted his fingers to his mouth until he tasted blood, having bit his nails down to the quick. The reality of their situation crashed into him, not too unlike the truck that crashed into Spirit’s late wife.

 

He needed- god he was going to- fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He had killed someone. Spirit was babbling over in the corner, his hands moving about, flitting around in prayer poses that Stein had only seen in books, before.

 

“Please, God,” Spirit pleaded, “if you get us out of this, I'll be good. I'll go to church! I’ll have more babies!”

 

Something in Stein hardened, his insides twisting around. “You already have babies, Spirit. You have kids and you- fuck, we’re fucked. We’re fucked,” he said, all his eloquence drained out of him. He shook his head, reaching for his bag, rummaging around until he found the pack of cigarettes he was looking for.

 

His fingers were shaking. Now that the nicotine was so close, he couldn’t help but crave it even more, especially when his stress levels were climbing through the roof, threatening to strangle him and leave him equally as dead as Melissa was. He tapped out one cigarette and brought it to his lips, his lighter in his palm before he could even think.

 

This, at least, he could do. He didn’t think he was capable of much of anything else at that moment, but smoking, that he knew in his very soul. Spirit scowled from the backseat and Stein caught it in the rearview mirror, shooting him a look as though daring him to say something.

 

Spirit closed his eyes and sighed, looking off to the side. “Listen. . .it's all my fault, Stein. And I. . I didn’t mean to ruin your life. I just. .. I had no else to turn to.”

 

Stein shook his head. “We have to go to the police, Spirit. It was self-defense.”

 

Spirit laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, yeah, the old poison her to death self-defense? They’ll never believe me, Stein.”

 

Stein cringed at the fact that Spirit was right, smoking his cigarette down to the filter before he reached for another one, lighting that as he tossed the burned out cigarette out of the window, trying to think of their options.

 

“ You just. . .you should really stop smoking so much,” Spirit said, lamely, and Stein snorted, some of the smoke coming from his nose so he looked something more menacing and less scared than he actually felt. He was shaking.

 

Fuck, he really _had_ forgotten what it felt like to be afraid.

 

He hated it.

 

He scoffed, regardless, purposefully taking in a deep drag and holding it in his lungs before he dangled the cigarette to the side of his mouth, his voice venomous. “And why should I, Spirit? I'll probably get life. Frankly, I should smoke two at once. It'll shorten the sentence.”

 

Spirit sighed, running a hand through his hair, trying to regulate his breathing. “I really don't want Maka and Blake to go through this. . .”

 

Stein looked up, expelling the smoke in his lungs out into the air, all of it tasting too stale on his tongue. “I don’t, either.”

 

Spirit looked around, his hands periodically turning his ring round and round on his finger. Until, very suddenly, it stopped. Stein looked at him from the corner of his eye.

 

“. . .what are you thinking?”

 

“. . .when Kami died. . .I asked the Uncles to bring her back.”

 

Stein nodded, throwing the stub of his cigarette down onto the ground. “Yes. And they wouldn’t.”

 

Spirit looked at him, his eyes all too bright all of a sudden. “Yes. Wouldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not ‘couldn’t’,” he emphasized, and Stein shrugged as he went to light another cigarette, muttering around it as he fished for his lighter.

 

“Yes, and they were right. You don’t dabble in dark magic. Things that get revived return in shadows. Unnatural,” he remarked, lighting his cigarette and crossing his eyes so he could watch the bright red cherry light up in the night.

 

“Yes, but don’t you see? Melissa already _is_ dark and unnatural!”

 

And, at that, Stein’s mouth went slack, the cigarette coming out from between his lips and falling onto the thigh of his pants, almost burning through before Stein snatching the smoke back up and let it burn away between his fingers.

 

“What the fuck are you thinking? That is not an option.”

 

“It’s our only option! I don’t care _what_ she comes back as! So long as she comes back with a _pulse!_ ”

 

Stein shook his head repeatedly, looking at Spirit with something confused and almost scared in his eyes. “That isn’t a choice,” he repeated, and Spirit all but grabbed him by the shirt, practically pleading.

 

“We don’t _have_ a choice, Stein! This _is_ the choice!”

* * *

 

Stein looked around, making sure that the coast was clear before he ushered Spirit into the open door of the big house that they’d grown up in, checking for a moment to make sure the whole house was quiet. “No one is here,” he said, sounding relieved. Surely, they were still at the Solstice Celebration.

 

“Thank whichever lord is looking out for us.”

 

“Yes, well, don’t thank her just yet,” Stein muttered, opening the door to the kitchen and stepping in without holding the door for Spirit. “Besides, you owe _me_ more than any god.”

 

“Hey! Couldn’t you have held the door? I almost broke her head open!”

 

“Yes, well, we all make sacrifices,” Stein remarked, feeling less than charitable considering the woman had just tried to kill his brother. He got the vibe that Melissa Gorgon would sooner tie the both of them up in a hole in the ground than anything else, and, frankly, the thought made him shudder. “Put her on the table,” Stein commanded, instead, cracking his wrists as he went looking for the big book that his uncles always kept in the top drawer. Now an impressive height, well over six feet, he could reach it easily and did so in barely any time at all, turning around just in time to see Spirit looking at Melissa with a furious expression.

 

“Okay, Melissa. I will get you out of this but, damnit, when I do, we are _definitely_ breaking up! It is _over!_ ” he monologued, and Stein could only look at the mess for a moment longer before his deadpan came to the surface, dry as the desert.

 

“What are you _doing_?”

 

Spirit stood up ramrod straight immediately. “Nothing! Me? Nothing. Just- she’s on the table.”

 

“Yeah,” Stein replied, rolling his eyes as he settled the book down with a thump, leafing through until he got the place where the ink was smudged and the stains were noticeably more rust toned than anything else. It was only in that moment that Stein could see that Spirit was shaking, and he looked up sharply. “Are you certain you want to do this?”

 

Spirit sucked in a deep breath before he nodded. “Absolutely.”

 

Stein looked at him for a long moment, but after that instant, he looked back down at the book. “Lips pursed. Emit wind over tongue in motion. Teeth on edge,” he read, and Spirit looked at him quizzically. Stein glanced at him, exasperated, before he made the noise for him as example. When Spirit attempted it, Stein only shrugged. “Good enough . Okay, now, touch bonded smudge of blue sage with braided wheat straw, check,” he remarked, leaning over to touch the two materials together right after he lit a candle. “Insert needles through eyes of corpse.”

 

“Wait, what?” Spirit yelped. “Through the eye?”

 

“Through the eye,” Stein remarked, unperturbed.

“No way. No _way._ I think we should wait for the uncles.”

 

“Yes, well, it isn’t as though she’s going to remain fresh, Spirit. Either now or we go outside and bury her.”

 

Spirit worried his lower lip between his teeth. “Damnit, why does it have to be the eye?”

 

“Don’t be a fucking baby. I went through worse in medical school. Now, go get me something white to write so I can write a star.”

 

When Spirit didn’t move for a moment, Stein looked up from the burning sage. “Oh, you’re disgusting. She is _dead._ Are you really thinking of necrophilia-”

 

“Oi! I’m not-”

 

“Then hurry up. She’s going to enter into various stages of necrosis at the rate you’re going.”

 

“Okay, okay, fine!” Spirit said, looking around the kitchen, glancing into cabinets and finally just opening the fridge as Stein continued to intone the spell. Spirit could practically feel the magic prick at his skin, suffocating.

 

And dark.

 

When he turned back around, he was holding a can of whipped cream. “This was all I could find,” he said, walking back to the table and looking down at the corpse of the woman he had thought he’d loved so much.

 

Stein looked at the can before giving a long suffering sigh. “This is fine,” he remarked, grasping the can. “Just. . .open her shirt and we can draw it on her chest.”

 

Spirit looked at her for a moment. “It feels wrong.”  


“She’s _dead_.”

 

“She can’t consent.”

 

“She’s fucking _dead_ ,” Stein repeated, looking unamused.

 

“Yeah, but she won’t be when we’re done! Can’t we just. . .draw it on top of her shirt?”

 

“Fine, fuck. Jesus. Yes. Just- draw the damn star,” Stein gave in, muttering something about ungrateful brothers before he went back to burning sage.

 

Spirit whispered a quiet ‘Sorry,’ to Melissa’s dead body before he carefully drew the star on her chest, taking a moment to swipe some of the whipped cream off and taste it, looking at her with sad eyes. “She loved when I used to do that. . .”

 

“I refuse to ask,” Stein responded, looking disgusted and rolling his eyes, holding out a needle for Spirit to grab.

 

Spirit took one look at it. “Do I. . .do I have to?”

 

“Do you want to go to jail?” Stein responded.

 

“Fine,” Spirit said, grabbing up the needle and looking down at her uneasily. “This is fucking gross.”

 

“Pull up your big boy pants, damnit,” Stein said. “At least we don’t have to enucleate her.”

 

“Now I don’t want to ask,” Spirit said, swallowing hard.

 

“Just say the incantation,” Stein commanded.

 

“And what would that be, smartass?”

 

Stein rolled his eyes, holding the needle directly above Melissa’s left eye. “Black as night. . .erase death from our sight. White as light, mighty Hectate make it right.”

 

“That sounds so lame-“

 

“Black as night,” Stein emphasized, and Spirit groaned, repeating.

 

“Black as night.”

 

“Erase death from our sight.”

 

“Erase death from our sight.”

 

“White as light.”

 

“White as light.”

 

“Mighty Hectate make it right.”

 

And, now, their voices finally melded together, chanting over Melissa’s body, the magic sparking in the air and their bones as they said it over and over and over again, and as the loop paused, breaking slightly, right at the moment that they were meant to throw the needles into Melissa’s eyes, they both looked down and noticed that-

 

they were open.

 

Spirit was the one who shrieked, dropping the needle and jumping back. Stein, however, only regarded her coolly.

 

“Lovely. Now that you’re awake, do you mind-“ he started, but Melissa’s hands flicked out with an unearthly speed, latching onto his throat as she sat up, acting more like a puppet on a string than anything else. Stein tried to suck in a breath, his grasp coming to her wrists, but she wasn’t deterred.

 

When she opened her mouth, breathing onto his face, Stein had the distinct belief that she smelled more like a grave than he ever wanted to get close to, but the blood was starting to cut off from his head and his hold weakened. He barely made out Spirit’s scream and then there was a metallic clang before Melissa’s grip went limp and she fell to the floor, leaving Stein to fall against the wall, sucking in harsh breaths.

 

Spirit’s terrified gaze met Stein’s.

 

Well. There went plan A.

* * *

 

Burying someone would have been infinitely easier were it not raining as though it was monsoon season. Stein dug his shovel in, throwing wet dirt off to the side, his pants forever ruined.

 

“You,” he started, grunting as he threw more soil away from the gravesite, “have the worst fucking taste in people.”  


Spirit did little more than grunt back at him, digging his own shovel in to throw another clod of dirt to the side before he indicated that it was enough, shoving Melissa into the grave, her body wrapped in linen.

 

Stein shook his head, starting to fill the grave. His entire life was a mess. He had done something wrong somewhere in his several years of life to deserve this. Fuck.

 

“. . .Stein,” Spirit started, and Stein made a noise of acknowledgement, intent on filling the grave as quickly as possible. “Hey, I know this sounds really stupid right now-“

 

“Big surprise,” Stein muttered, cracking his wrists before resuming his work, knowing his brother was scowling at him.

 

“BUT. . .I just. .. I just really wanted to say thank you,” Spirit finished, and Stein finally looked up, seeing the open vulnerability on his brother’s face. He’d never seen Spirit quite that fragile before. Quite that scared. “Thank you for being my brother.”

 

Stein nodded after a moment. “It’s all right. . .it’s fine,” he said, by way of acceptance. “Let’s just put this all behind us,” he proposed.

 

Spirit looked grateful. “Yeah. . .but,” he said, looking behind him at the giant house that loomed. “What will we tell the uncles?”

 

Stein looked at the house, too, that place of memories, of secrets. The Uncles kept plenty from them, too.

 

“Nothing. We tell them nothing.”


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning might have just as well been an extension of the night, considering neither of them got much sleep until Spirit heard a car pull up the driveway and all but jumped out of his skin. “Oh god, they're here.”

 

Stein shot Spirit a bloodshot look. “Just be calm.”

 

“Calm. Yes. Right.”

 

“You were only gone for a few months.”

 

“I can’t help but feel like I abandoned my kids. . .and they’ll hate me.”

 

“Maybe,” Stein shrugged, and Spirit scowled at him.

 

“Thanks for the reassurance-“ he managed to get out before he eeped and hid behind the chair as the door opened and he saw Maka and Blake run inside.

 

“Uncle Stein! Uncle Stein!!” Blake shouted, grabbing at Stein’s pant leg. “Guess what? We danced naked under the full moon!”

 

“Yeah!” Maka added. “It was so fun!”

 

“We did!”

 

“So cool!”

 

“I see,” Stein said, looking over at his uncles who looked slightly guilty but mostly smug.

  
Spirit, for his part, had finally gotten up, looking at his kids with something akin to wonder. “Hey guys,” he said, weakly, and Maka gasped, turning to look at her father with massive green eyes, so like his own. But it was Blake who broke the silence!

 

“Yahoo! Papa’s home!”

 

“Papa!” Maka screamed, running to her dad and throwing her arms around his legs, hugging him super tight. “Papa is home!”

 

Spirit laughed, sounding genuinely delighted as Stein leaned against the banister and crooked a smile at the group. His brother came down to his knees so he could hold his children close, finally looking up just in time for Lord Death to see the impressive shiner that he was sporting.

 

He sounded sheepish.

 

“Hi Uncle Death.”

 

“Oh, Spirit,” Lord Death said, his gaze focused decidedly on the mark on the man’s face as Spirit stood up, holding hands with his kids. “Well. . .” Lord Death remarked, reaching out and patting his cheek. “A little mugwort will clear that right up.”

 

Spirit crooked a grin, running his hands through Maka’s hair.

 

“Yeah. Easy fix.”

 

Excalibur walked by, nodding at him. “Perhaps a brownie would fix you up?”

 

Spirit’s smile widened. “A brownie? We’re still doing that-“

 

“And a story of my adventurous tales-“

 

“Aaaand things really haven’t changed,” Spirit laughed, tugging on his kids. “Come on, Maka, Blake. Why don’t we go to the greenhouse?”

 

Maka nodded happily, her pigtails bobbing, and Blake broke away from Spirit to run on ahead, prompting Maka to make an offended gasp and chase after him, Spirit starting to make his way to his children before being stopped by Lord Death.

 

“Don’t you worry, Spirit. Whoever they were. ..they’ll get what they deserve.”  


* * *

 

It was far later, deep in the middle of the night, that the two witches stood over their brew, casting their incantation.

 

“Eye of newt and toe of frog,” Lord Death said, his voice dark as he added the ingredients.   


“Wool of bat, tongue of dog,” Excalibur continued.

  
“Adder's fork and blindworm's sting.”

  
“Barbados lime is just the thing.”

  
“Cragged salt like a sailor's stubble!” Lord Death giggled, adding the salt to the margarita mixture in the blender they were hovering over.

  
“Flip the switch...and let the cauldron bubble!”

 

Their cackles seemed to traveled. 

* * *

 

Stein groaned, furrowing his brows as he felt someone poke between them. “Jesus fuck, Spirit, don’t do that.”

 

“Wakey-wakey!” Spirit said, still poking him.

 

“Don’t wanna-“

 

“Shhhh, listen.”

 

Stein cracked his eyes open in annoyance, grumbling before he heard the sound of the blender and he blinked, suddenly wide awake and grinning.  


“Midnight margaritas!” Spirit squealed before pulling his brother out of the bed, the two of them coming down the stairs.

 

And, well, usually they wouldn’t be so excited.

 

But after the shit time they’d had?

 

They could use some alcohol.

 

Maybe just-

 

a little.

* * *

 

They’d all had too damn much to drink.

 

“Oh, for the love of- come on!” Stein complained, swaying drunkenly, but Spirit only chortled.

 

“No! This is serious! Give me your hand!”

 

The two men awkwardly fumbled for a moment before Stein sighed, slapping his hand into his brother’s, and Spirit laughed menacingly as he traced over the lines, pursing his lips and trying to look more sober than he really was. After a long minute of all three of the others at the table looking at him expectantly, Stein finally cracked.

 

“Well?”

 

“Okay, okay! All right,” Spirit said, looking at Stein’s hand more intently. “Okay, I see. . .a woman! I see a woman in your future and. . .oooooh, she’s gorgeous.”

 

Lord Death and Excalibur made whooping noises from the side and the blush licked at Stein’s ears when he tried to pull his hand away.

 

“Oh, be serious-“

 

“I am! Oooohahaha! She’s got a hell of an ass on her. Busty, too!”

 

“Shut up-“ Stein muttered, and Lord Death snorted into his drink.

 

“If only all of us could be so lucky,” he crowed, prompting laugher all around and Stein tried once again to pull his hand away, but Spirit kept going, all of them practically roaring.

 

“Oh, but you’re scared to death! Ahaha! Because you’re too afraid to fall in love, even if she’s- peeeeerfect. And you wind up all old and alone, just like you always feared-” he cackled, before hiccupping and looking confused, immediately dropping his brother’s hand. “Oh my god. . .I don’t even know where that came from. That was so weird.”

 

Excalibur made a derisive noise. “He’s never had much magic. He just made all that shit up.”

 

“Pft!” Lord Death responded. “Don’t lie! Spirit has his own brand of magic,” to which he waggled his brows. “And we allll know what it is!”

 

“Oh?” Stein started, clearly internalizing the hurt. “Since when is being a SLUT a crime in this family?” he asked, looking pointedly at his uncles, and Excalibur all but howled with how hard he was laughing.

 

“What would you know about it?”

 

“Yeah,” Lord Death piped up. “We tried to hook you up with someone like Spirit, but even binding that spell with molasses didn’t get you to even kiss them!”

 

It wasn’t funny. Somewhere, all of them knew it wasn’t, but they couldn’t help but laugh, anyway, something coming over them even as Spirit said it was wrong.

  
“You self-centered shrew!” Lord Death crowed.

  
“Ingrate!” Stein responded, cackling.

  
“Goody two-shoes!” Excalibur managed.

 

“Wiiiitch!” Spirit shrieked, and they all but fell over themselves with how hard they laughed, having to grab hold of the table to prevent themselves from landing on the floor. Lord Death took another drink, swilling it back as though it were water.   


The Uncles were more drunk than Stein and Spirit were, Excalibur the drunkest of them all, and they found each other, arms wrapping around the other’s shoulders, starting to sing. “Quite as often as I should have. . .would have said and done. I just never found the tiiiiime. . .You were always on my mind~” they sang in an off key harmony, and it was suddenly as though Stein and Spirit had been doused with water, the two of them standing up. Stein felt more sober than he swore he ever was as he turned the bottle around, noticing a rather familiar print on it.

 

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.  


“Where did this bottle come from?” he demanded, looking from one Uncle to the other as Spirit’s eyes widened and he got up, moving away from the table. “Where did this bottle come from?” he asked more forcefully.  


But the uncles were in good cheer, still singing. “Someone left it on the pooooorch! Sooooomeone left it ooooon the porch!”

 

Spirit yelped as Stein made the fast two strides to the sink and threw the bottle into it, letting it smash and all the liquid draining down. At this, finally, the spell that had been over the Uncles was entirely broken, and they, too, stood up.  


“What's going on here?” Lord Death asked, looking from Stein to Spirit, noticing the similar somber looks on their face. Even as he swayed, still drunk, he seemed imposing. ”What's going on with you? What's going on in this house? Something's going on. I can smell it.”  


“Yes,” Excalibur piped up from beside him. “It's a very distinct smell. It's the smell of bullshit.  


“I don't know what you're talking about,” Spirit said, but yelped when a broom fell down, making a harsh smack.

  
“Company's coming,” Lord Death said mysteriously. “Want to tell us before that happens?”

 

Stein felt as though he were going to pop from the sudden pressure. “We had a problem. We handled it,” he said.  


“We deserve an explanation,” Lord Death said, but both Stein and Spirit were closed lipped, not ready to divulge any secrets that night, and Lord Death’s expression hardened. “Right. Right then. Come on, Cali. Let’s go.”

 

Stein folded his arms, one over the other, as he watched them go, and only when the footsteps completely faded away did he look at Spirit, who had a helpless look on his face.

 

Stein knew what he was going to say before he even said it.

 

“No. It's just not possible. Don't even think it.”

  
“Then tell me how that got here. How did this bottle get here?” he asked, breathing hard and digging his nails into his skin.

  
“It's not possible. Don't be stupid,” Stein rationalized, and the two of them looked out the window where they knew Medusa’s body was buried. “It’s not possible.”

* * *

 

“Leaving like this is a harsh lesson,” Lord Death muttered, rummaging around in his suitcase, trying to double check if he brought everything that he need. Excalibur shrugged, folding up another pair of his pants.

  
“A lesson they must learn on their own.”

 

Lord Death nodded, knowing that his brother’s reasoning was sound. “And what about the little ones?”

 

“A piece of Marcus’s hanging rope should protect them,” Excalibur muttered, and Lord Death immediately looked over at the large chest that they kept off to the side of their room.   


He zipped close his suitcase and slowly walked over to the chest, kneeling down as he opened it to look inside and fish out a piece of the rope, long enough to wear as a necklace on the two kids. After living so long with one another, Excalibur and Lord Death didn’t even need to look at each other to know that they had to walk down the hallway where the two children slept, and Lord Death slipped in, first, looking at the rise and fall of Blake’s and Maka’s chests. Something in him ached.

 

“Maka?” he whispered. “Blake?”

 

Lord Death slowly walked forward as Excalibur leaned the suitcases against the wall, walking in as well just as Maka and Blake slowly woke up, looking confused.

 

“What’s happening?” Maka asked just as Blake yawned, stretching up.

 

“Oh, man, is it time for school, already? I hate school.”

 

“No,” Lord Death assured. “No. We had to give you something before we left.”

 

“Left? Where are you going?” Maka asked, but Excalibur had already tied the rope around Blake’s neck, and he touched it, tilting his head. Maka watched her brother.

  
“We cannot tell you. But you must promise us you won't take this off, okay?”

  
“Not until we come home,” Excalibur assured, and Maka looked at them both.

  
“We'll only be gone a short while,” Lord Death soothed, running his hand through Maka’s hair. “Do you hear us?”

 

She took a moment to nod, but when she did, Lord Death graced her with a smile. “Promise?”

 

Both children muttered that they promised, and only then was the protection spell complete.

 

“Love you,” Lord Death said, and Maka’s voice was the one he heard loudest proclaiming that she loved him, too. Only after that did Lord Death start making his way out.

 

But he felt Maka’s eyes on him the whole way.

* * *

 

“Make him stop,” Stein pleaded, the sunlight itself hurting him, but with the added noise, it was truly torture. “I'll pay whatever it takes.”

  
Spirit rolled his eyes, walking over to where Blake was playing with a loud clacking toy that had been the cereal box. “Honey, can I see that a second? Thanks,” he said, as soon as Blake handed the toy over, and Spirit threw it behind him, somewhere into the abyss, taking another sip of coffee. “Oh,” he said, noticing that something was off with his children. “What's that thing around your neck?”

  
“The uncles gave it to us,” Maka said, answering for her brother, and Blake nodded, spewing some of his cereal over the table when he agreed with his sister.

  
“They said it'd protect us.”

 

“Protect you?” Spirit asked, leaning against the counter. But Stein only shrugged.

 

“The Uncles are weird. . .say, Maka, can you get the mint from the garden before your bus comes?”

 

Spirit sighed, rubbing his temples and going to open some drawers. “Yeah. . .you’re right. Now, where is that damn aspirin?”

 

Stein, however, was looking at Maka. “Maka? Can you just go do-“

 

“Not while she’s out there,” Maka said, looking outside the window with a serious expression that didn’t suit a girl so young. Stein yawned.

 

“Not while who’s out there?” he asked.

 

“The woman. The woman under the roses.”

 

At that, it felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room, and both Stein and Spirit got up, scrambling over to the window as Maka stared out.

  
“What?” Stein asked, Spirit all but running him over.

  
“I don't see her?”

  
“Are you looking at her now?” Stein demanded.

  
Maka looked at both of them, flabbergasted before she pointed. “She's right there,” she said, and Spirit, frustrated, made his voice harder.

  
“Where?”

  
“By the roses,” she told him, as though it were the easiest answer in the world. “The ones that grew overnight.”

  
“Oh, shit!” Stein said, and Spirit couldn’t stop stroking his daughter’s hair, fingers shaking.

  
“Okay, sweetie, we'll get rid of it,” he assured, before looking over her head and hissing at his brother.   
“You better call the Uncles. Now.”

  
“They left,” Blake said, from the table, and the two of them whirled around.

  
“What do you mean?”

  
“When did they leave?”

  
“They said to give you a message,” Maka continued for her brother, nodding at him to finish the thought.

  
“Yeah!” Blake said. “They said ‘Clean up your own mess!’”

 

Stein and Spirit looked at each other.

 

They were fucked.

* * *

 

Spirit was above nothing. Including yelling at dirt, Stein realized after he’d walked the kids to the bus stop and returned to find that Spirit was no longer in the kitchen, but outside.

 

Stein rushed a tad faster than he should have, but he was by Spirit’s side in just an instant, listening to him as he pulled at the roses and got his hands cut up by thorns. “You stop this, Melissa!” Spirit yelled. “Stop it!”

 

“Spirit-“ Stein started, intending on shushing his brother, but Spirit was feral.

 

“She’s making them grow! These fucking roses. I-“

 

“Spirit!”

  
“She's trying to get to us by making them grow! You leave us alone!” Spirit yelled, throwing some of the roses he’d managed to pull off at the pile, and Stein finally grabbed his brother by the arm.

  
“Stop it, Spirit! Stop!” But he let go when Spirit gasped, falling against him. “What?” he asked, looking around, but Spirit was pointing downward, at the ground.

  
“Her. . .her boots!”

 

Stein looked down just in time to see the toes of Melissa’s snakeskin boots coming up and out of the soil, and he breathed in harshly. “Holy fuck-“

 

“Is she rising? Or is the ground sinking?” Spirit asked, but the instant he did, Melissa’s boots sunk back down, and both men looked at each other. “What. . .what is she doing to us? She’s trying to get-“

 

Stein’s voice set. “Go inside.”

 

“Stein?”

 

“She’s trying to get out. Go inside. I’ll handle it.”

 

Spirit looked at his brother for a long while but eventually pulled away, nodding. “Yeah. . .yeah, okay. Just. . .yell if. . .if you need me.”

* * *

 

The last time Stein gardened, he had been fourteen years old and forced to work beside his Uncles. He certainly didn’t have a knack for it, then, and he had no knack for it, now. But if there was anything Stein was good at, it was destruction. And he was hacking away at the rose bush as though a man possessed. So involved in it, in fact, that he missed the sound of a car coming into the driveway and the footsteps from beside him. He only knew someone had showed up when he heard a soft, feminine voice. “It's early for roses, isn't it?”  


Stein immediately dropped the sheers he was using to hack at the rosebush and looked up, taking note of the small woman standing beside him. The sun beat down on her, but even that couldn’t wash out the brilliant shade of blonde in her hair, her golden eyes sparkling, framed by freckles on her cheeks.

 

Why was his mouth suddenly so dry? “. . .Can I help you with something?” he asked, wiping his hands on his pants before he decided it would be prudent to stand.  


“I sure hope so,” she said, cheerfully, and he noticed when he stood how miniscule she was. When she reached into the pocket of her skirt, he took note of the wide flare of her hips, following the motion of her hand. “Name's Marie. Marie Mjolnir. Special investigator from the prosecutor's office in Tucson.” When she pulled out her badge, he looked at it, intently. She wasn’t smiling in it, but her eyes were still alight. She looked younger in the picture, but from the looks of things, she was likely younger than even he was.  


“You’re a rather long way from home,” he remarked, looking down at her. Most people were shorter than him, but this was just ridiculous. He eyed her up and down, noticing her tall heels. She barely even reached the center of his chest and she was in heels?

 

Amazing.

 

“It would seem that way,” she said, nonchalantly. “But, in any case, I was hoping to speak to your brother, Spirit? If he’s around? He might have some information on a case I’m working on.”

 

Stein nodded, obeying without even a second thought. “All right, I'll get him,” he said, making his way to the house before he stopped in his tracks and looked behind him. “. . .How did you know that I’m his brother?”  


“Hm?” she hummed, looking at him with something unreadable in her eyes before she smiled. “A lucky guess, I suppose,” she gave by way of explanation.  


Stein found himself nodding without thinking about it. God, since when did his body do things that he didn’t greenlight first? What was it about this woman?

 

“. . .Why don't you come inside?” he asked, and her smile widened as she walked behind him, allowing him to hold the door open for her. “I’ll go and get him. He’s. . .uh. . .he’s probably upstairs,” he said, and she nodded. “You can. . .sit. . .if you want,” he finished, before turning and climbing the stairs two at a time.

\---

  
The door to their shared room slammed open as though Stein were a hurricane and not a man, and it was enough for Spirit to take his headphones off, ready to give Stein a piece of his mind and how he likely just misaligned his chakras, but Stein was already speaking.

 

“A cop looking for Mellisa wants to talk to you,” he said, watching as Spirit scrambled up. Then, as though afterthought, “And I think I'm going to enter cardiac arrest as a result.”  


“Woah!” Spirit said, quickly making his way to his brother. “Just calm down. Calm down. What is the question? The question is: ‘How much can he know?’”

 

“She. How much can SHE know. And she seems to know a lot because he's come all the way from Arizona. And I know this sounds batshit, but I don't think I can lie to her,” Stein admitted.

  
Spirit scoffed. “Of _course_ you can lie to her. You’re the best liar I know. You don’t give a fuck about anyone else’s feelings.  Listn. Here's the story, right? Here's the story. I left Medusa because she hit me. And we haven't seen her since. It's as simple as that. You just let me handle the rest. Okay?”  


Stein nodded, slowly. “Okay. Fine.”  


“All right?”  


“Left her because she hit you and haven't seen her- What?”  


Spirit was grinning. “Is she cute?”  


Stein scowled. Spirit was Spirit down to the very wire, regardless of situation, and Stein simply turned around, making his way back down the stairs. “. . .I guess she's. . .nice.”

 

In Stein speak, that meant she was definitely a solid 10 out of 10.

* * *

 

When Stein finally came back to the kitchen, he saw Marie looking at some of the bundles on the table that he’d set out to dry, and just as soon as he saw her, his mouth was moving. “They’re just herbs,” he said, and Marie looked up at him with that same golden gaze. “From the garden.”

 

Marie managed to crook a small smile at him. “I see.”

 

“So,” Stein said, sitting down at said table. “What brings you to the island?”  


At that, Marie looked more serious, sighing before she threw her hand back into her pocket and produced a crumbled envelope. “This.”

 

It took Stein a moment, but he finally recognized that the handwriting on it was his own. “That’s my. .. .letter. You read my letter?”  


“Yes, sir, I did,” she admitted. Stein felt sick.  


“That’s illegal. You cannot confiscate mail.”

 

Marie looked guilty. “This is a very serious case, Mr. Morte.” He couldn’t look away from her, however. In the light of the house, not in the direct sunlight, there was something about her. . .”What?” she asked, noticing that he was staring.  


“. . .you seem familia-“

 

“Hello there~” Spirit’s voice cut him off, and Stein froze as he recognized it as the sultry tone his brother always had with whatever flavor of the week he was interested in. Marie looked up, blinking at him blankly.   


“Morning, Mister- Good morning, Mister Morte,” she said, voice drying down when she noticed that Spirit had dressed so that his shirt had quite a few buttons undone, and Stein wanted to drown himself all of a sudden.  


“Good morning......Mrs...?”  


“Ms. Mjolnir,” she shut him down quickly, stuffing Stein’s letter back into her pocket. “Look, I'm not going to beat around the bush, Mr. Morte. I need to find your girlfriend, Melissa Gorgon.”  


“I don't know where she is,” Spirit told her, finally coming into the kitchen instead of just standing on the stairs, and he stood across from her, the table the only thing between them as she opened up a notepad and started writing something down. “And I wouldn't exactly call her my girlfriend. She's more like. . .a big mistake.”  


“Is that her handiwork there?” Marie questioned, pointed at Spirit’s eye with her pen.  


“If someone hits me,” Spirit begins, his voice finally serious. “They only do it once.” Spirit finally made his way around the table, looking down at Marie and slapping on his most flirtatious, charming smile. “Can I take a peek at your...?” he started, gesturing to her hand, and Marie looked over at Stein for a second before she daintily held out her palm and Spirit bat his eyelashes at her. “Now, I can tell that you've never touched someone with malice in all your life.”  


“Yeah, okay. Can I have my hand back, please?” she asked, but it was clearly more of a demand, and Stein squashed down any strange threads of jealousy he had felt in favor for amusement at the outright rejection Spirit had just undergone. “So, you're telling me you have no idea where she is?”  


“I told you,” Spirit frowned, realizing he wasn’t going to get lucky. “She hit me and I haven't seen her since.”  


“When was that?” Marie asked, all business.  


“Three days ago. Right, Stein?” he asked, looking over at his brother for confirmation, and Stein nodded. “Three days.”  


“ Right,” Marie said. “Excuse me. Whose car is that in the driveway, then? The one with the Arizona plates?”  


Spirit looked at Stein for some kind of answer, a desperate sort of plea, but Stein looked at a loss for anything to say, so Spirit was left on his own. “That's. . .uh, that’s my car.”  


“That's your car? Plate number 42-S-N-A-K-E?” Spirit nodded, and Marie was unamused. “That's Melissa Gorgon’s car. Come on now.”  


“We stole it,” Stein blurt out, finally, and Marie whirled around to look at him. Spirit, from behind her, brought his arms up into an X, mouthing ‘ABORT ABORT ABORT!!!’, but Stein couldn’t stop. “We stole it and it's a crime. I know this, but she basically kidnapped him!”  


Marie looked horrified, looking back at Spirit. “She kidnapped you?” Spirit made a face as though it were all hogwash, but Stein had already shoved his foot in his mouth, might as well finish with the whole leg.  


“Well, see, she didn't really kidnap him. She sort of- just a little nap.” Marie was looking at him as though he had two heads. “No, see there was a car and she- You should know, Spirit has the worst taste in people,” he laughed, and Spirit seemed horrified at the train wreck that Stein made of the plan, but Stein only shrugged before looking back at Marie. “Well, he does. So I picked him up and I drove him right back her and we would be delighted to give her back his car, because it is a crime-“ Marie had finally come forward, fishing out a handkerchief from her breast pocket and dabbing at the side of Stein’s face, where he was sweating, making his breath hitch, his speech dissolving.  “As you say, but we simply don't know where she is. . .to give her back. . .that car.”  


“So, basically,” she said, looking at him intently, “nobody knows where she is.”  


“What?” Stein asked, too focused on looking at Marie’s beautiful eyes, his heart doing something funny in his chest.  


“You don't have any idea where she is?” she asked, somewhat more forcefully. Stein shook his head in the negative immediately, and Marie nodded as though to say she understood. “Would you mind if I just took a look around?” This time, Stein managed a strangled noise of agreement, and Marie looked at him oddly. “Thanks,” she said, putting her handkerchief away and slowly moseying into the living room, leaving Stein dazed.  


When he looked over at his brother, all Spirit could do was exaggeratingly mouth “What is wrong with you?”  


All Stein could do was mouth back: “I don't know!”

* * *

 

It was only after Marie had done a full sweep of the house that they settled back into the kitchen, the two men staring down at the thick file that Marie had brought with her, photographs covering the entire table.

 

“And _this_ young lady's name was Rachel Boyd. Two years ago, she was found strangled and laying on the side of the highway,” Marie said, setting yet another picture down on the table, and Stein and Spirit shared equally unsettled looks.

 

“Her body had been marked with a kind of brand burned right into the face. Same as a young man a year after that, Joe Buttataki,” she said, setting that picture down, as well.

 

“So,” Marie continued, looking at them both very seriously. “Any help you boys can give me in locating this. . .ex-friend of yours, this Black Widow, nicknamed Medusa, would surely be appreciated.”

 

Stein and Spirit locked eyes from across the table.

 

Fucked indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

It had only been a few days in the town and Marie was certain everyone was certifiably insane.

 

“He's all yours! Go arrest him!” a tall man said, his hair greasy and eyes beady. Marie raised a brow.

 

Well. That wasn’t the response she was used to getting. Usually, when she went to ask questions to the people in the town, she didn’t get such. . .passionate responses. Something was fishy regarding the story the two brothers had brought up, and she was determined to find out just what it was. When she had left, she’d taken a sample of something that was on the seat, some. .. it appeared to be an herb, and she was still waiting for the results from her station. In the meantime, the best she could do was gather intel and background information.

 

By talking to, what she assumed was, absolutely batshit townspeople.   


Someone, Mr. Greasy’s daughter, Marie presumed, backed him up. “That redhead owns a shop where they cook up a special placenta. And that's why the Uncles don't age. I tell you, they just don't age!” she said, looking slightly envious.

  
Marie was unconvinced. “They’re selling placentas?” she asked, trying to maintain her serious expression, but the woman didn’t catch the dry tone.  


“It’s a whole placenta _bar_.”

 

Right. Okay. On to the next part of town.

* * *

 

The market didn’t have much better results.

 

“On Halloween, they all jump off the roof and fly!” a decrepit old man had said, his joints aching, as he’d informed Marie, prior.

 

“They. . .fly?” Marie asked, not even bothering to write down the allegations. What a strange town.

 

“Off the roof!” he said, starting to wave his cane around.

 

Marie slowly backed away.

* * *

 

She had assumed that, at least, the school would be where reasonable people dwelled. Mothers and fathers and guardians came to pick up their children, all smiling and laughing. And they were more than happy to comply with the nice officer.

 

A little boy with pockmarked skin was pouting at her, his voice scathing. “When they get mad at you, they hex you!” he said, arms folded over one another, and his mother made a tutting noise, clearly about to shush the boy.

 

“Hex you? How?” Marie asked, long since abandoning her notepad.

 

“They give you- you- chicken pox!” he said, pointing at his face, but his mother immediately grabbed his arm and yanked it down, speaking over her child as a group of mothers came to surround her.

  
“I personally wouldn't be surprised if she turned up in a ditch somewhere,” someone said, and Marie’s head whipped up, looking around. Her gaze hardened.

 

“That’s a very serious accusation, ma’am,” she said, simply, standing up from her bent down position that she’d assumed to talk to the child. She saw the crowd shift slightly.   


“No, no! She's not saying they murdered her-“  


“Yes, I am!” she responded, chin lifted and eyes ablaze.   


“ _No,_ she isn’t,” the other replied, grasping at the other woman’s hand. Marie noted that they wore matching wedding rings, and the two of them shared a look. “Just that. . .maybe they shook her hand and- and then she died.”

 

“It's very mysterious!” another added in, and Marie cocked a brow, not understanding just why she was so irritated at this crowd. Likely because they were getting her approximately nowhere.

 

“Right, well. If any of you have any _pertinent_ information, feel free to contact me,” she said, but she turned around and walked off without giving so much as her number, sauntering off to some other part of town.

 

God, what a weird place.

* * *

 

If there was any conclusion she could come to as she made her rounds through the town, it was that there was not a singular townsperson who had anything of even remote value to say. An old man sitting in front of the post office had looked at her as she asked questions, but would talk of nothing but some. . .curse.

 

“A curse?” Marie asked, skeptical, and the man nodded.

 

“Yes, that’s how she died, most likely.”

 

“That’s preposterous,” Marie all but snapped. “Curses don’t _exist!”_

“Here, they do,” the man insisted. “If anyone dared love a Morte, they'd live briefly in the euphoria of their love until meeting an untimely death. It’s the curse.”

 

Marie all but rubbed at her temples. “You mean to tell me that all the partners that the Morte family has had ended in the death of one of them?”

 

“Only the partner. Never the Morte!” he said, wheezing.

 

Marie shook her head. “Thank you, anyway.”

 

She was getting real tired of this hullaballoo.

* * *

 

When she’d finally bit the bullet and came to the place Spirit Albarn-Morte worked, well, she wasn’t expecting his trio of assistants.

 

A woman who introduced herself simply as Blair, and then introduced her two partners, her wives, Arisa and Risa, had hair as bright as grape kool-aid, and Marie was only slightly envious of the fact. She was also currently ringing up two bottle of shampoo and conditioner for her, as that was her cover for the miniature interview she was conducting. Marie’d chosen the bottles on the woman’s recommendation, and was currently standing at the checkout, eased by the nearly flirtatious and playful way that Blair spoke, particularly with her wives.

 

“Witch?” Blair asked, setting down the bottle of condition. “Yes, of course he’s a witch. But evil?” Blair lifted an immaculately groomed brow. “No.”

 

“No way!” Risa. . .or perhaps it was Arisa, Marie got the two confused, spoke up. The other shook her head as she put away shampoos.

 

“Spirit’s not evil. I mean, sometimes you get witches who are total psychos-“

 

“What Risa _means_ to say-“ Arisa cut in, shaking her head and nudging her, “is that _some_ people call themselves witches and. . .and commit like. . .animal slaughter.”

 

“Or ritual disembowelment!” Blair added in, cheerfully.

 

“Yeah, but that’s pretty rare,” Arisa said, nodding in agreement.

 

“It’s more of a. .. pagan label, really. Though, it’s kind of weird because Spirit was raised Catholic.”

 

“Yeah, and his name used to be Spencer,” Risa added in, giggling. “He’s soooo not a Spencer!”

 

“They’re not really Pagan-Pagan, you know? Stein was raised Jewish by his mom-“ Blair continued.

 

“His name’s Frank, isn’t it?” Risa pondered.

 

“Why do they call him Stein, then?” Marie finally asked, though the information was the least important thing to her.

 

Arisa waved her hand around. “It was his mother’s last name, before she died. Those Morte boys are only half brothers, really. Raised by the Uncles after their mother’s died, and their father died of a broken heart. We thought Spirit would, too, after Kami went-“

 

“Arisa-“ Blair said, her eyes looking sharp and nearly feline, as though they could see right through you. “The detective doesn’t need to know that.”

 

Marie looked from one woman to the next to the next, nodding slowly. “Okay. So. . .they’re. . .good witches?”

 

Blair nodded. “Spirit- he’s definitely not a bad guy, you need to understand that. He sleeps around a lot but that’s not a crime. A lot of people in this town hate him for it. But he’s not into any of the evil shit this town wants to burn him for.”

 

“Spirit isn’t,” Marie said, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. “How about Stein?”

 

Risa and Arisa looked at each other. “Well-“

 

“We don’t really know him very well,” Blair said, coolly. “But Spirit trusts him, so-“

 

The sound of the bell finally cut her off, and all four women turned to look at the door as Spirit finally came in, carrying a large brown bag and looking as though he had a headache as another man followed after him, continuing to speak. Spirit threw the foursome a look, one that was a mixture of confused and irritated, but didn’t pause until he finally came to his counter, set to the side of the cash registers Marie was currently standing by, and set his bag down.

  
“Mr. Morte! I have been trying to tell you- Mr. _Morte!”_

Spirit sighed through his nose, near imperceptibly. “Yes, Mifune, what can I do for you?” he asked, lifting a brow and looking up at the elegant man standing before him.

 

Mifune, Marie assumed, only slammed down a bottle of. . .something, on the table, and completely disregarded that there were others in the store. “I didn’t trust Dr. Stein much when he recommended me here for this. . .scalp condition of mine, but I was unaware it would be _so_ incompetent. Now, the more I use, the less it works. The product. Doesn't. Work.”  


Spirit looked like he’d aged several years all at once. “That's because it doesn't go on your head,” he explained calmly, to which Mifune looked flabbergasted.  


“If I don't put it on my head, where the hell else would it go?” he asked, and Spirit looked down at the man’s waistline pointedly.   


“Try,” he started, indicating with his eyes, “to remember.”  


Marie could barely hold down her giggles as she watched the man come to the realization and snatch his bottle up. “My mistake,” he stammered, immediately turning to go, and only when the door shut behind him with the soft tinkle of the bell did Blair burst into chuckles.  


“Well, there you go!” she said as she finally rung Marie up. Marie, for her part, only shook her head.   


“Strange town,” she said, paying the total before grasping up the bag Blair was holding out for her with a smile.   


“It’s our own little corner of the world,” she said. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

 

Marie smiled back at her, nodding and turning to walk out, and she was halfway down the block before she heard the footsteps.

 

“Hey! Hey!” she heard Spirit’s voice, and she turned around.

 

“Did I forget something?” she asked, innocent as could be, but his expression looked infinitely less open and flirty than it did when she first met him. In fact, now he looked far more serious. More like his brother than anything.

 

“Am I under some kind of surveillance?” he grilled, seeming more like an interrogator.

 

“Should you be?” she shot back easily, adjusting the bag in her grip and blinking at him simply.   


“If you want to know something you should just ask me.”  


Marie raised a brow. “Yeah? I already did. And, no offense, but there are a few holes in that story.”

 

Spirit chewed on his lip. “Look. . .just come to the house tomorrow and we can clear all this up. I’m still. . .I’m still getting over Melissa and so if I’m acting weird, that’s why. No one ever hit me like that, before.”

 

Marie was instantly reminded of the stories of Spirit’s first relationship, one Kami Albarn, who shed the Morte name as though symbolically stripping herself of the confounded curse she kept hearing so much about. She nodded, her mind clouded in sympathy. It hadn’t taken her too much digging to find out that Kami was, in fact, dead. Leaving behind two little children. And now Spirit went through this? Holes in his story or not, it was hard to go through.

 

“Okay. . . I have to do some more research for tonight. Could I come over for a late morning?”

 

Spirit looked relieved. “Sure. I can even make breakfast, and you can talk to Stein in the meantime. I make a wicked syrup for some pancakes.”

 

“Yeah?” Marie asked, smiling. “That would be nice, thank you. I’ll see you, then.”

 

Spirit continued nodding, even when she turned away, walking in the general direction of the flat he was sure she was renting out, and his eyebrows furrowed, something aching in his chest, but not in the usual way.

* * *

 

The nightmares haunted him. Long when everyone else was already asleep, even Stein with his insomnia, they kept Spirit up. He rolled over in his bed, shoving his pillow over his head. He had a big morning, but it was already 4am and he was no closer to sleep than he had been at 10 when he laid down. It would seem that any sleep he got was pulled from him, not even 30 minutes after he allowed it to take him.

 

Spirit whimpered, feeling cold, feeling that tug at his heart like a hook, his belly bottoming out. He couldn’t stop imagining Medusa’s eyes, her face, unearthly, her ghastly shriek when he’d killed her a second time.

 

When he finally rolled out of bed, all but sobbing, it was to make his way down to the kitchen. He needed some Belladonna. He needed some warm milk or a brownie or- fuck, something. How long has he been looking for gentleness for something that wasn’t a baked good? It wasn’t important. What was important was that he had to protect his family in the morning, Stein, and his kids, and his Uncles.

 

Spirit shook his head, rummaging around in the fridge for a solid five minutes before he gave up with a curse, shutting it, hard, and leaning against the damn thing, bringing his fingers to his face and digging the nails into his cheeks.

 

“Leave me alone. . .please, just- just leave me _alone,_ ” he whimpered, shutting his eyes and looking out, seeing how large and eerie the moon was in the sky through the massive glass doors in the kitchen. Outside, the rose bush had grown again, vines tendriling out like snakes, and some cold fear gripped him, making his arms shake. All but instantly, a harsh breeze shoved the doors open, and Spirit’s eyes widened as he ran to shut them again, but the wind was cold against his skin, icy. He looked out at the night, empty and silent, shuddering.

 

“. . .Medusa? God, Medusa, is that you?” he asked, looking around, biting his lip and trying to bring his sleeping shirt closer to him. “Go away,” he whispered, eyes wide, vulnerable.

 

“Go away.”

* * *

 

The morning brought such an intense tiredness to him that he had to wear sunglasses just to hide his bags, but he had a job to do, his two kids in the greenhouse with him as he tried reading from the spellbook. “Alright,” Spirit started. “To banish unwanted persons, it says you need blessing seeds. All right. Good,” he said, looking around and grabbing up a random bottle from the cabinet. “What about nigellus seeds?”  


Maka shook her head, looking all too sassy for a girl so young. “It's the same thing, Papa.”  


“Wow, is it?” he asked, looking impressed. “Good. You're good at this.”

 

“Uncle Stein taught me,” she said, proudly. Spirit smiled at her, but he figured it might be more of a grimace. It always stung, just a bit, that his brother got all the magic.   


“Hey,” Blake said. “Why can't we tell Steinburger we're sending the policelady away?” he asked, sitting up on a high shelf and kicking his feet back and forth, whistling and almost knocking everything over.   


Spirit looked exasperated. “Get down from there, Blake- no, don’t jump!” he sighed when his son did just that and pinched his nose. “ _Because,”_ Spirit said. “Your uncle likes to pretend he doesn't do magic because he’s a pragmatic doctor. And we must banish this woman for his own good. Okay?”

 

Maka didn’t look too convinced, but only nodded. “Okay,” she agreed, and Spirit actually smiled at her.   


“Okay, so, blessing seeds, then? What else do we need- Blake, for the love of- I told you to listen out the door for Ms. Mjolnir! It’s like a spy game, right? Playing Ninja?” he asked, turning back around to look through the shelves. “Blessing seeds, blessing seeds. . .and. . .oh yeah! Milk thistle. I can't find anything in this damn place.”

 

Maka shook her head, looking around before she opened a drawer and furrowed her brows, finding an old notebook. Slowly, she pulled it out, reading some of the chicken scratch handwriting. “Hey, papa?” she asked, and Spirit grunted at her. “Was this Uncle Stein’s?”

 

Spirit finally turned around to peer at what she had in her hands and his brows went up, noticing the oddly neat ‘Amas Veratis’ spelled out at the top.   


“Hey, yeah. Where did you get that?”  


"In the drawer,” Maka answered, blinking and reading through the list. ‘she’ll have. . .’ Papa, what’s this word?”

 

Spirit blinked at her for a moment, remembering the memory. The lavender. The warmth. “Heterochromia,” he pronounced for her, and Maka nodded.

 

“’She’ll have. . .heta-hetra-hetrachroma- One eye brown and the other gold. Then she’ll lose one. And she’ll be tiny, but so strong she could pick me up and carry me, if she wanted. She laughs with a snort. Her hair is the color of sunshine-‘ Papa, who is this about?”

 

Spirit scratched at the back of his head. “Uh. . .well. . .you see-“

 

“Did we ever meet her? And what kind of spell is this, Papa?” Maka interrogated, and Spirit sighed.   


“You know the truth is that this wasn't about anyone in particular at all. This was when Stein was really little, almost as little as you!” he said, feeling the same tug at his heart. “He tried to invent someone who didn’t exist. It’s a true love spell. He thought if his true love wasn’t real, some. . .fake woman, he’d never fall in love.”

 

“Is that why Uncle Stein is so lonely, Papa?” Maka asked, her big, green eyes, taken directly from him, looking so sad.

 

“Yes, pumpkin, that’s why,” Spirit told her, patting at her hair. “He’s very scared of falling in love.”

  
“Well, that’s stupid!” Maka said, dropping the notebook back onto the counter, her little fists coming to her hips. “I can't _wait_ to fall in love! In fact, I can’t wait to cast a- an- an- Am-Amee Verates- true love spell! He’ll have teeth like a shark! And white hair! And- and he’ll play the piano and- and the piano’s name will be Natasha- and-“

  
“Oho! There’s a long time for you to get to that point, Maka!” Spirit laughed. “But. . .you know, do you remember when you used to throw your arms out and spin really fast?”

 

“Yeah. . .” Maka said, but Blake snorted from the corner.

 

“What do you mean ‘when’? She still does it! Because she’s not a big guy like me! Big guys like me can spin twice as much as she can!”

 

“Nu-uh!” Maka said, pouting and looking fierce. “I can spine a- a- a bajillion times more than you can!”

 

“No you can’t!” Blake replied.

 

“Yes I can-“

 

“Kids, kids!” Spirit said, a chuckle bubbling in him somewhere. “Both of you can spin so much. And, do you remember how you feel when you spin around?” He waited until both of his kids nodded, and his smile got more sad. “Well. . .that’s what love is like. It makes your heart race and it turns your world upside-down. But if you’re not careful. . .if you don’t keep your eyes on something still. . .you can lose your balance and you can’t see what’s happening. That’s what scares your uncle so much. That he was afraid he couldn’t see when he was about to. . .about to fall.”   


There must have been something melancholy in him, too. Something broken, because Maka screwed up her face something fierce. “Don't be sad, Papa. I won't let you fall down.”

 

He didn’t know how to tell her that he already had. Twice. That Stein certainly had the right idea, in the beginning. Thankfully, he didn’t have to. Blake broke the moment so easily.  


“She's here!” he said, all too loudly, and Spirit cringed.   


“Okay. Okay- make sure to tell her breakfast might be a little late. Go go go!” he said, ushering them out of the room and looking at the ingredients his daughter brought to the table as his kids rushed out, near tripping over one another in a race. He shook his head.

 

Maybe his brother really did have the right idea. 

* * *

 

Marie was always struck by just how large and beautiful the house the Morte brothers lived in was. If she didn’t know so many people lived there, three generations of Mortes, she’d think it was extravagant.

 

And, speaking of the third generation of Mortes, she felt two of them bump into her legs. Out of her police uniform for once, she was scared her billowy skirt would just fly up and expose her panties to the world.

 

“Woah! Where’s the fire?” she asked, looking down at two bright eyed children, one the spitting image of Spirit, and the other with a wide, grin.

 

“Hah! I beat you, Maka! Take that-“

 

“Miss Mjolnir!” the girl said, clearly ignoring what Marie assumed was her brother. “Thanks for coming for breakfast. We're having pancakes!”

 

“Is that so?” Marie asked, grinning as she knelt down. “Well. I love pancakes.”

 

“It just might be a little late!” she continued, and Marie nodded.   


“That’s okay! I have to talk to your Uncle. . .or your father.”

 

“Papa’s cooking right now. But Uncle Stein can talk to you!” Maka said, looking up at the sunny woman, something about her making her eyebrows furrow. “You look like sunshine,” she said, and Marie giggled.

 

“Yeah? Thank you! That’s very sweet of you to say,” she replied. “Now, can you two race over to your uncle? I’ll follow you! First one there can see my badge.”

 

“Okay!” Maka said, but the boy was already running and Maka yelled out ‘Blake!!’, loudly  and clearly annoyed, and Marie strolled after them, seeing just at that moment how Stein was leaning against the door, his eyebrow raised. Something churned in her stomach at seeing him, the amusement on his face clear as the kids pointed at him and looked back at her, making her laugh. She watched as he pressed his palm atop Maka’s head, saying something that got the two of them running off to a different part of the house, likely where there father was.

 

Her heart fluttered, just a little, at the sight, but she had more important things to worry about than single doctors who were good with kids. The test results had finally come back just that morning, and she was sitting on some unsettling evidence. Sighing, she smoothed down her skirt.

 

She had a question or two to ask him.

* * *

 

“Papa, papa! She said she’s gonna stay! She likes pancakes!”   


Spirit was carefully mixing up the concoction of syrup, biting his lip and slowly boiling something on the stove. “Good, good,” he said, absentmindedly. “Good work. Good job. Now- can you two just go back out there and- keep them away from here? Thanks!”

 

Maka looked at her Papa for a moment and scrunched her mouth over to the side, rolling her eyes, turning to leave, just like Blake already did. But she took a moment to look at the counter where some blessing seeds had been spilled, and noticed the notebook that was still open.

 

After a moment, looking to make sure her papa’s back was turned, she swiped it.

 

Something was brewing up to be very interesting indeed.

* * *

 

Marie couldn’t look away from the curious expression on his face, tapping her fingers against her thigh.

 

“I see Spirit’s flirtatious ways aren’t behind him. Welcome back,” he said, dryly, and Marie shook her head.

 

“He’s a handful,” was all she said for a moment, smiling and looking outside. “But, well, I came here more for you than anything else.”

 

“Oh? Spirit had informed me that you were wooed by his promise of pancakes. I warn you, they’re dry.”

 

Marie giggled, pushing a lock of hair behind her hair. When she became the kind of woman to giggle on the job.  . .well, she wouldn’t know. “Actually, I had a question for you. One I believe you would best be able to answer considering your expertise in the medical field.”

 

Stein nodded slowly, eyes flicking down to her fingers tapping at the side of her thigh. “Yes?”

 

“Belladonna,” was all Marie said, and Stein raised his brows at the fact that it wasn’t framed as a question.  


“It’s a sedative. People put it in their tea to relax, calm their nerves. Outdated, considering modern medicinal practices, but homeopathic.”  


“Well, I did my own research. And- ah, I found out that. . .some people. . . also use it as a poison.”  


Stein blinked at her. “Which people?”  


Marie nodded after a moment. “That’s right. Witch people. Witches.”

 

Realization dawned on Stein’s face, and false amusement came over him. “Hmm, is that so?”

 

“Yeah. . .and, uh, I figured. . .you know. . .what with your reputation in the town and all. . .you might know if there’s any. . .witch people here?”

 

“Cut the crap,” he said simply. “You found me out, hm?”  


“I did,” Marie replied confidently as Stein stood up, walking toward her.  


“You should come here on Halloween. You'd really see something.”  


“Yeah?”  


“Yes. We all jump off the roof and fly. We kill our partners, too. Or is that outside your jurisdiction?” he asked, and she recognized a second too late how his voice had hardened.

 

“Stein-“

 

“Perhaps an effigy of burning us at the stake? Or would ‘Witch, witch, you’re a bitch’ suit you better?”  


She ran a hand through her hair. “Listen- damnit. Do you have any idea how strange this all sounds to me? I’ve got random people telling me you're here cooking up placenta bars! That you're into devil worship-“  


Stein scoffed. “There is no devil in the craft.”

 

“No?” Marie asked, moving away from the door she was leaning against. “So what kind of. . .craft do you do?”  


“I don’t,” he replied, simply. “I am a doctor.”

 

“And your brother?”

 

“My brother manufactures bath oils and soaps and hand lotions and shampoo. Some of which you’ve used, if the scent from your hair is anything to go by.” Marie didn’t have a moment to feel nice about the fact that he noticed before he continued. “And the uncles meddle in love lives,” he shrugged. Marie looked confused, so Stein only rolled his eyes. “Magic isn’t merely spells and potions. Your badge, for example is just a star. A symbol. What some would say is. . .talisman. And it cannot stop criminals in their tracks. It only has power if you believe in it.”

 

The unspoken, that he wanted her to believe in him, too, was heavy.  Or, maybe Marie was simply imagining that, looking deep into his eyes and feeling some. . .spark. Lightning in her soul that no man, ever, could have have caused. Hadn’t caused. Until him.

 

Her chest felt tight.

 

Marie tilted her head, clearly chewing the inside of her cheek but trying to keep her expression neutral. If he was a witch and witches used belladonna for poison. . .she needed answers.   


“Frank. . .tell me once and for all. . .are you hiding Melissa Gorgon?”

 

Stein laughed joylessly. “Not in this house.”

 

“Did you or your brother kill Melissa Gorgon?” she probed, and Stein crooked a smile at her.

 

“Yes. A couple of times.”

* * *

 

“Maka, could you make _more_ of a mess?” Stein asked, when he and Marie finally came into the kitchen. Spirit, it seemed, was off in the greenhouse doing something.   


“Uncle Stein!” Maka whined, “I'm cooking.”  


“Doubtful,” Stein remarked, easily, and Marie giggled.  


“I guess Spirit abandoned the pancakes. Do you want some help, Maka?”

 

Maka looked over at her before she nodded. “Yeah. The flour bag is really heavy, so- I tried making them without it but- it just went really gloopy,” she said, and Blake was trying to jump for the sugar on the highest shelf. Stein had already moved to help his nephew, but Marie reached for the oversized bag of flour. “Careful! It’s really, _really_ heavy!”

 

Marie laughed as she lifted it effortlessly. “Don’t worry, Maka. When I was in the Police Academy, I could pick up all my instructors. Some of them were bigger than your uncle!”

 

Maka’s eyes went wide, and an idea curled in her brain. “Yeah? So you’re like. . .wonder woman?”

 

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. I’m a little small to be Wonder Woman!”

 

“But- you’re really tiny but could pick up Uncle Stein. . .hey, can you prove it?” Maka asked, eyes alight, and Marie’s brows lifted before she looked at Stein.

 

“Oh, I- well-“

 

“Yes, Miss Mjolnir,” Stein egged on. “Prove your strength,” he teased, and Marie looked at him with a blush collecting on her shoulders.

 

“I- oh, fine. But only this once! And just for the kids,” she said, looking embarrassed and stepping up to Stein. She barely reached the center of his chest and she was in heels, to top it off. Maka watched with wide, happy eyes. Marie took in a deep breath before she stooped down, throwing one around around his hips, and next thing Stein knew, his balance had been upset and Marie came down even farther, hooking her arm around his knees and bringing him up onto her shoulders, seemingly effortlessly. She easily jostled him, standing up from her stoop, and grasping his arms to bring them to his knees. His legs nearly hit the ground from his place on her shoulders, but Maka looked so impressed it was worth it. “There!” she said, grinning. “That’s a fireman’s carry,” Marie finished, and Maka clapped as Marie slowly brought Stein back onto his feet, looking sheepish.

 

“Psh! That’s no big deal! Watch, a big guy like me can do that, too!” Blake said, running up to Stein and trying to do the same thing, but Maka had already seen enough, especially when Marie started laughing so hard that she couldn’t control her snort.

 

“Miss Mjolnir!” Maka said, “could you help me with the pancakes?”

 

“Oh! Yes, sorry, Maka!” she replied, going to help her as Stein told Blake that he was in need of a good wrestle match, the two of them going outside to roll in the dirt. Maka bit her lip, wondering how to approach the next subject as Marie prepared the pancakes, flipping them easily, one handed.

 

“Say- Miss Mjolnir?” Maka started. “You have really pretty eyes.”

 

“Hm?” Marie asked, absentminded as she poured more batter into the pan, looking off to the side to see how Stein was wrestling with his nephew, clearly pretending to be at a disadvantage.

 

“I really like the color. . .but you turn an awful lot to look at things.”

 

Marie finally looked down at her, her hand coming to her cheek. “Oh- well. . .that’s because one of my eyes. . .well, Maka. Sometimes things happen to people and they lose body parts or- I just- I lost my eye. Just one of them.”

 

Maka gaped. “Really?”

 

“Yes,” Marie said. “It happens to a lot of people. It’s not rude to ask but. . .maybe wait until someone tells you themselves, hm?”

 

“O-okay!” Maka said, chewing on her lip. “But- one more question Miss Mjolnir?”

 

“You can call me Miss Marie, Maka,” Marie said, warmly.

 

“Okay. . .Miss Marie. . .were both your eyes as pretty as the one you have now?”

 

“Prettier,” Marie said, taking another pancake off the stove and onto the stack. “My eyes were different colors. I lost the brown one, so now my eyes are gold, because that was the one that was left.”

 

“That’s so cool!” Maka said, and excitement fizzed up in her stomach. She was so giddy! She had just found her Uncle’s true love! Oh, he was going to be so happy! No one could be afraid of falling in love when falling in love with someone like Miss Marie!

 

“Well!” Marie said, simply. “That’s all of the batter! Do you think this is enough pancakes?”

 

Maka nodded frantically. “Yes! C’mon! C’mon! Let’s go outside and eat them!” she said, instantly grabbing at Marie’s skirt and tugging her outside, barely giving Marie time to grab the plate as she following dutifully, looking at how Stein had pretended to be smited by his nephew.

 

“I assume you two don't want pancakes? Even after such a valiant fight?”

 

“Pancakes! Yahoo! A big guy like me needs food!” Blake said, scrambling up and running to his sister, then, beyond, all but barreling into the table.   


“Blake!” Maka scolded, but Stein came up next to her.

 

“One day, he’s going to need his shoulder popped back into place,” he said, and Marie scowled at him.

 

“Don’t wish that on a child!”

 

“I didn’t wish anything,” he responded, grinning down at her creepily, but Maka was already internally screaming at the idea of the two of them getting married.

 

“Miss Marie! Miss Marie! I’ll take the pancakes!” she said, snatching the plate out of the woman’s hands and running off before Marie could even say anything.   


“Are they always so excitable?” she asked, slowly strolling to the table with Stein by her side.

 

“Yes,” he said, dryly, and she could her a lifetime of headaches behind the word, leaving her snorting as she finally sat down at the table, watching as the kids ran around and Maka immediately made a beeline for her.

 

“Miss Marie! Miss Marie, can you whistle?”

 

Marie smiled at the girl, leaning back in her seat. “Why, yes. It’s the only musical talent I have, I’m afraid.”

 

“Any song?”

 

“Any song!” Marie boasted.  


“Ooooh, look. A star!” Blake said, this time, having run up to Marie and dug in her pocket, finding the badge.   


“Blake,” Stein said in warning, but Marie only shook her head good naturedly.

 

“Let him. It’s harmless.”  


“Well, I wouldn’t say harmless,” Spirit finally said, showing up holding what looked like two pitchers. “He’s a tad hyperactive.”

 

Marie shared a look with Stein over the table and crooked a smile. “Yes, I got that impression first hand, Mr. Morte.”   


“No, call me Spirit. And- Marie, can I call you Marie?”

 

“Sure,” she said, chuckling, all too amused at the clean air and the interesting family. Stein was looking at his brother dryly, clearly not impressed with his flirtations, and Marie shot him a glance that she hoped told him that she was the farthest thing from interested.

 

“You brought coffee?” Marie asked, having run a late night and needing more caffeine in her veins.  

  
“A staple in this household,” Spirit informed, pouring some into one of the cups that had been set up on the table outside. “Oh, and you have to try my syrup-“ he went to say, but the instant Maka heard the word, she shrieked.

 

“Papa! No!”

 

“Wha-?” Spirit started, but it was too late. Maka had already said something to her brother and the two of them had ran to the table, almost knocking the entire thing over if it weren’t for Stein grasping hold of it, looking as though this were commonplace. The group of adults watched as Maka snatched the pitcher from her brother, rushing off to the side of the yard. Spirit, clearly seeing what they were about to do, went to run after them, but stopped in his tracks when he heard his children counting down from three, the only warning they gave before they threw the pitcher as hard as they could out to the garden, spilling all the contents. Spirit’s expression fell as Stein broke into high, creepy giggles.   


“I suppose they didn’t want to eat that, Spirit,” Stein remarked. “Though who can blame them?” he added, and Marie was grinning at the other brother’s crestfallen expression, all of them getting up and walking in the general direction of the garden to get the pitcher before she heard something like a choking sound coming from the. . .the roses.

 

Odd. She could have sworn Stein had cut those down when she first showed up.

 

As though on cue, all the adults stopped, their ears focused on the noise of a ribbet, and she spotted a frog, clearly doing something odd.   


“What. . .what in the world?” she asked, not even hearing the whoops of the children in the background as the frog finally heaved and spat out. . .something. Something that looked like a ring- Her eyes went wide and-

 

“Oh, I've- I’ve been- been looking for this,” Spirit said, scooping the entire thing up and trying to hide it from her, but she could see how Stein’s expression went grim and she immediately went into her police-officer brain, taking two solid steps forward and looking the redhead in the eyes as he tried to stumble  over his words. “This is his-the frog’s, I mean, his- his party trick-“  


“It's your ring, is it?” she asked, looking him dead in the eyes, and Spirit slowly nodded, something cold and scared in his eyes. “Could I see it?”  


The reluctance to which Spirit opened his palm was the first sign, the fact that he looked at his brother for guidance was the other. But when he finally did and she saw the snake ring, the one she’d memorized from burn marks in murder victims- well. That was all the evidence she needed. She breathed in hard through her nose and found a handkerchief in her pocket, grabbed the ring out of his hand, meeting no resistance, but just grim acceptance.

 

“What do you think you're playing at?” she asked, holding the ring, and she saw how Spirit tried to twist his face into innocence. When she looked over at Stein, however, there was no such pretend.

 

“What do you mean?” Spirit asked, playing dumb, and the fire in her stomach lit up. This entire morning- the children and- and Stein. She had believed him when he told her he hadn’t been hiding Medusa but now- it was all a lie. This was all a damn lie and they were still trying to lie to her.

 

Marie’s voice got hard and she shut down her expression. There was no more warmth in her face.   


“You better get yourselves a damn good lawyer. And don't even think about leaving town,” she told the two of them, sneering and turning away, walking off, looking over at the two children with confused expressions. Her heart clenched.

 

“What the hell was in that syrup?” she muttered to herself, but she was already going going gone.


	7. Chapter 7

“Listen,” Sprit said, running his hands through his hair. “We just stick to our stories. No body, no crime.” He watched as Stein put dishes away into the sink. “Hey, are you listening? Hey?” he asked, pushing at his brother’s shoulder, and Stein’s grip on one of the dishes came loose, allowing it to fall to the ground. Spirit winced, immediately grabbing up a hand towel and coming onto his knees. “Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm feeling awful. I'm not sleeping-“

 

Stein finally snapped. “Whatever. I don’t give a shit.”

 

Spirit’s eyes were hurt when he looked at Stein. “I don't want to fight,” he said, but Stein snatched the towel out of his hands and cleaned up the broken pieces all the same. Spirit’s brows furrowed before he stood up, shaking his head. “Fine if you want to be like that-“

 

“Like what?” Stein asked, standing up and throwing the pieces from the dish into the trash. “You used to be _my_ babysitter, and now you act like a child constantly in a mess.”

 

Something in Spirit only swelled in frustration at that. “Yeah?” he asked, glaring. “I guess you're right. You're always right, huh? I'm just a mess. Just one big mess! But you know what? At least I've lived my life. And you hate me for it because it scares the hell out of you!” Spirit said, pointing at his brother. Stein looked taken aback.

 

“Spirit,stop being an idiot-“

 

“No, shut up! You spend all this damn energy trying to avoid everyone and everything and close yourself off but, damnit, you live in the real world! You are surrounded by people! You’re surrounded by the Uncles and me and the kids-“

 

“Don’t talk about those kids-“

 

“All my life, I've wished I had half your talent. And look at YOU? You're wasting yourself!”

 

Something shuddered closed in Stein’s face. “Fine. Fine, I’m leaving, then,” he said, immediately turning around and making his way to the doorway, grabbing his jacket and shoving it on.

 

“What? What are you doing? Where are you going?”

 

“Going to ‘be around people’,” Stein mocked.

 

“No way. No way. You are not telling her what happened!”

 

“You know, the moment she walked in, that’s all I wanted to do.”

 

“So, hat? Will you get on your knees and beg for mercy?” Spirit asked, grabbing his brother’s sleeve, looking at him incredulously.

 

“You want me to be around someone else? To be true to who I am? Then watch this,” Stein said, yanking his sleeve away from Spirit’s grip and turning around.

 

It was just a shame he left too soon to see his brother fall down right after the door closed.

* * *

 

“Oh- Jesus Christ,” Marie said, followed by something in Swedish when she spotted Stein jogging his way toward her, and she only rolled her eyes and kept walking as he finally fell in step with her. He had such impossibly long legs that he could catch up in seemingly no time. Still, she didn’t even acknowledge that he was there.

 

“It was Medusa’s ring,” Stein said, and Marie gasped over exaggeratedly.

 

“Oh! Really?” she asked, turning left and continuing to walk down the sidewalk without so much as another glance at him.

 

Stein closed his eyes in embarrassment for a moment. “I know you knew that, but I needed to tell you.”

 

“I was serious back there,” she said, finally turning to look at him as she got to the front door of the place she was renting out. “You need to get yourself a lawyer before you talk to me.”

 

“I don't want a lawyer,” Stein admitted, and Marie looked at him critically.

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t need one.”

 

After a long, drawn out moment, her shoulders sagged and she went to unlock her door. “Damnit, fine. All right. Come on in. Just. . .excuse the mess. I wasn't expecting company,” she admitted, and he followed after her to her kitchen, where she had her table covered in papers. “Have yourself a seat. Let’s see what I need here,” she told him, absentmindedly, before muttering to herself as she began rifling around for something on her counter, but his gaze was focused intently upon her table, where he could see his letter standing out. When he didn’t answer, she turned around, seeing that he was staring at what she had on her table. She managed enough to look somewhat sheepish. “You don't need to look at that stuff.”

 

“How many times did you read my letter?” Stein asked, glancing at her, and Marie shrugged.

 

“A few. I have to study all the evidence,” she told him, before sitting down at her table and cleaning up a bit, organizing several things off to the side so she could set down a recorder on top of her daisy printed tablecloth. She looked up at him with a brow cocked. “Okay, you want to sit down?” she asked, waiting for him to finally sink into one of her chairs before she spoke more clearly, clicking the recorder on. “This is the testimony of Frank Enstein-Morte, March 8th,” she waited a beat, looking at him evenly. “Where is Melissa Gorgon?”

 

“I think she's in the spirit world,” Stein said, unabashedly. Marie’s eyebrows went up.

 

“You think she's dead?”

 

“No, I hypothesize she's haunting us,” he clarified, looking at her just as evenly. “What evidence did you get from reading my letter?”

 

Marie ignored him. “Did you or your brother kill Melissa Gorgon?”

 

Stein scoffed. “Spirit didn't kill anybody.”

 

Some emotion flickered over Marie’s face. “Spirit didn’t. . ..Spirit didn’t, but you did?” she asked, and Stein looked away. “Did you?” she pressed, and Stein sighed, looking up at the ceiling. Marie’s voice grew all too concerned for a strictly professional relationship. “Oh, god, Frank, did you?”

 

“And what if I told you I did?” he fired back at her, setting both of his palms on the table. “What would you do? Would you send me to jail for life because the world was short a bitch like Melissa Gorgon?”

 

Marie was shaking her head in disbelief. “It's not for you or me to decide how she should be punished. She has to be held accountable for what she’s done!”

 

“Well,” Stein said, simply. “She has been punished.”

 

“Has she?” Marie asked, and when Stein nodded, she shook her head immediately, clicking her tape recorder off and pulling out the tape. “Listen, you should get a lawyer's advice before we go any further.”

 

Stein stood up, looking at her with faraway eyes, and Marie chewed on her lip for a moment before she opened the tape recorder and grabbed the tape, yanking out the ribbon inside of it, rendering it useless. It took a long while for her to collect herself, slapping the ruined confession down on the table. With it came a long sigh, and a deep, probing, vulnerable look. She ran a hand through her hair.

 

“Look,” Marie started. “I know you’re in some kind of trouble, all right?” she asked, stepping toward him and hesitating to touch his arms, but he could see, feel, that she wanted to. She flexed her fingers. “And. . .If you’ll trust me and. . .and tell me what you know. . .I promise you, I promise you, Frank, that I will do everything I can to keep you from harm's way. . .Okay?”

 

When she finally touched him, it was like electricity yawned between the two of them. Like he could finally breathe. And all throughout her small speech, he could barely focus his gaze away from her lips, where she was speaking so reassuringly and he couldn’t stop wondering how her mouth would fit on his mouth and-

 

When she touched him, the world broke open. It was irrational, and stupid. He had only known her for such a short while. He had known others for infinitely longer and not been interested in them but this woman- with her sunshine, her warmth, her no-nonsense questions, how kind she was, how unyielding and yet soft- a hurricane of a woman-

 

He stooped down, throwing his arm around her waist and lifting her up effortlessly, the static between them licking at his skin and he met her mouth, one of his hands coming to her cheek as he kissed the ever loving hell out of her.

 

And it was when she kissed back, after gasping into his mouth, that he groaned into her, settling her ass onto the table and desperate to keep going, unable to prevent himself from saying her name. It felt like, all his life, he was spiraling toward this moment. Like this was where he was meant to be, kissing her and kissing her and kissing her, and when he finally realized what he was doing, he pulled away with a harsh breath.

 

“Fuck- I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-“

 

“I shouldn’t have, either,” she said, but both of her palms swept up to his jaw and she guided him back, softly kissing his cheeks, his jaw, his nose and brows before she kissed each corner of his lips and then melded them together, once more, sucking his cupid’s bow between her teeth. And he felt so damn complete, like this was where he was always meant to be. “But I-“ she said, between kisses, as his hands dipped to her hips, massaging the skin beneath her skirt as she moaned softly, “have wanted-“ “to kiss you-“ “since I showed up-“ she finished, grasping up his hand, finally, and guiding it beneath her shirt, feeling his touch on her belly and arching toward him. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded, and Stein moved on to kissing her neck, sucking at her jugular and feeling her pulse on his tongue.

 

She made a muffled noise of pleasure when he bit down, just lightly, and he finally adjusted them so she was flat on her back, laying on all the evidence, the broken confession tape. Her shirt hiked up, her legs wrapped around his waist and she grinded against him, her skirt coming up high on her thighs. He tugged at her jacket, feeling the smooth skin of her arms, and she pulled away from him so she could take it off, immediately going to kiss his nose, his cheeks. So chaste, so _warm._

 

But something on her face gave him pause, and he brought his hands to her jaw, cradling her face.

 

“Your eyes. . .” he said, and Marie’s beautiful flushed face only got more pink as she bit her lip, batting her eyelashes at him. “One’s different.”

 

“It’s a prosthetic,” she said, running her hand through his hair and then down his back, still not moving up his shirt. “One was gold and one was-“

 

“Brown,” he finished for her, something sinking in him. “Heterochromia.”

 

“Yeah,” she said, trying to move forward to kiss him once more, but he was already pulling away. This fear was a different one, different from with Medusa. This was the kind of fear that came from stepping into newness. Into-

 

realization. The realization like frigid water that he’d wished for her. He’d wished for her and she’d shown up. This, her, was the woman he had asked for as a boy, the one he had always wanted. His soul mate, his _person._

 

He should have known, by then, that magic bubbled in his very bones.

 

“I've got to go,” he said, his voice shaking as he pulled away from her, even as she tried to hold on, something broken and vulnerable on her face.

 

“What? Frank-“

 

“I have to go-“ he repeated, and he was out of her little flat faster than she could even blink, her breathing still heavy as she brought a hand to her cheek, her heart nearly cracking in her chest.

 

“I. . .I was born with it.”

* * *

 

Stein didn’t have the luxury to think. He barely even had the time to breathe. Something in his stomach had turned just a few feet after he left Marie’s place with the uncomfortable realization that he had just met the woman he’d wished for. What did that mean for him? What was he meant to do? What was he-

 

Oh, for the love of- this was not the time for him to get a phone call, but lo and behold, his ringtone was playing even as he aimlessly wandered, wanting to be swallowed by the dirt. Yet, when he saw it was the house number, he shook his head. He wanted nothing to do with Spirit, not now.

 

But he had an odd feeling traveling up his spine, almost similar to the night when he knew Spirit was in danger.

 

He picked the damn thing up. What did he have to lose. “Hello-?”

 

“Uncle Stein! It’s- it’s Papa-” was all he heard Maka say, and it was all he needed to hear. There was panic in her voice, real fear the likes of which he never wanted to hear from her. And so-

 

he was running, the same as then, his feet pounding his way home until the doors were thrown open and he was taking the stairs two, three, even four at a time, all but running over his niece and nephew who were sobbing and immediately clinging to him.

 

“Uncle Stein!”

 

“Uncle Stein! Uncle Stein, daddy needs you!

  
“What's going on?” Stein asked, looking from Maka’s sobbing face to Blake’s.

  
“I didn't do anything!”

 

“We’re scared-“

 

“Papa is-“

 

Stein heard Spirit’s pained gasps from upstairs and immediately pushed the kids behind him, taking the stairs two at a time. “Go downstairs. Go downstairs. It's okay!” he said, but it was very much so not okay. When Stein finally rounded the corner, his heart almost snapped into pieces at seeing his brother in such a state.

 

“Spirit?” Stein asked, stepping in slowly, but he felt someone collide with his back and managed to turn around just in time to see Marie pointing her gun, her eyes intense. She must have realized something was off, likely coming to see him and clear the air but hearing screaming children and pained gasps.

 

“Frank, the kids called me- What the fuck is going on?” Marie asked, but Stein only kept stepping forward, stopping dead in his tracks when Spirit arched off the bed with a shriek and out came Medusa’s ghost, sitting up in his place as Spirit panted miserably.

 

Marie’s hold on her gun tightened, but she lowered it, her expression incredulous.

  
Medusa looked around, cracking her neck. “Oh, Officer Mjolnir. Just looking at you makes me homesick,” she said easily, grinning and cackling. Marie walked in closer, but she could do little more than blink, watching as Medusa got up and seemed to start walking, just as Stein did the same, trying to circle his way over to his brother. Medusa locked eyes with Stein, standing behind Marie’s back, and made a few tisking noises. Marie turned to look behind her, seeing Stein’s hateful expression directed at Medusa, and she whirled back around, puffing her chest up, knowing she’d do anything to protect him.

 

“Stay there, Stein,” Marie muttered, but Medusa only grinned wider. “Hm? What was that?” she asked, coming ever closer. But Marie was frozen in place, looking at the ghost with nothing but shock, her lips tightly sealed. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Medusa teased, giggling. “Well,” she continued. “Maybe this will help!” And then, with no other warning, she threw her hand out, jabbing it right into Marie’s chest as she screamed. Medusa only continued to laugh as Stein gasped and Spirit rolled around, trying to come to, but after a moment, Medusa’s laughter turned to a pained shriek and she threw her arm out.

 

Without Medusa there as support, Mare simply fell to the ground with a clatter, her gun and badge skittering from her. And, for a moment, Medusa simply looked just as amazed as the rest of them, but then her expression turned scornful and furious, and Stein saw that Marie’s badge had burned itself into Medusa’s palm.

 

“You bitch!” Medusa howled, unearthly, but Marie was already scrambling for her badge, lifting it up and holding it out. And Medusa could do little more than hiss, the edges of her image getting blurrier and blurrier before she finally just dissolved.

 

And that was it, save for the silence. Spirit sobbed himself awake and Stein grasped his brother’s hand all the harder, feeling useless.

 

Marie sucked in a deep breath.

 

Another.

* * *

 

Marie was pacing back and forth and Stein had no idea what he was supposed to do with his hands now that all he wanted was to grasp her about the shoulders and stop her in her tracks. His fingers settled for moving through his gray hair, instead, as Marie whirled around, her expression clearly distress. “What the hell was that, Stein? That was her, wasn't it? Was it? Is she. . .god, is she gone or what?”

 

Stein swallowed hard, breathing in deeply through his nose. “Yes, that was Medusa,” he revealed, his voice dead, and Marie looked horrified and somewhat disbelieving, but he couldn’t stop. Now that he had opened his mouth, it seemed as though he couldn’t close it. “I suppose now you require the full confession, yes?  What I killed her with, why, where I buried her-“ he said, practically tripping over his own words before Marie made a strange noise, one between a guffaw and a screech.

 

“Woah! Woah, god, just- fuck, just hold on just a goddamn second, all right? One step at a time!” she demanded, falling back against the wall, her hands shaking. He felt like all the breath in his body had been sucked away. “I took on oath to uphold the law! I came here to bring in the bad guy because- generally- that's what I do!”

 

Stein looked away. Why hadn’t he just spoken to Lord Death and Excalibur when he had the goddamn chance? He closed his eyes. “Well, you asked,” he said, accusingly, only to be met with silence.

 

That was fine. He could handle silence. Silence was good, familiar territory.

 

Of course, it was nothing if not fleeting.

 

Soon, Marie voice rung out, once more, except, this time, the tone had changed. Instead of angry, scared, it had softened. “Frank,” she began, and his eyes snapped open at the fact that she’d called him by his first name. For a moment, he wanted to tell her that no one, not even his uncles, called him ‘Frank’, but it sounded good when she said it. Warm. “I told you I would do anything to keep you safe and I meant that- I _mean_ that.” Stein only ran a hand through his hair. It would be infinitely easier if she was just- if she was just less good. When he didn’t answer her, she sighed, chewing on her lip. “You know. . .you asked me how many times I read your letter,” she said, and her eye was shining. “I. . .god, I must've read it about a thousand times,” she revealed, looking almost sheepish at the revelation, laughing nervously. “And I know now that it was your letter. . .you, not anything else that brought me here. It was you. And I. . .I’m all mixed up about that.”

 

Stein was unable to look at her. “The only reason you're here and you don't know why is because I sent for you. That is all,” he finally confessed, and Marie’s brows furrowed.

 

“What?”

 

“When I was a boy,” Stein clarified, “I made a spell so I never had to deal with this and I crafted qualities in a woman that I believed wouldn’t exist.”

 

The realization that dawned on Marie’s face did nothing to quell the queasiness growing inside of him. “Just one eye? . . .No. . .just one eye, now. Before, one that was brown and. . .and one that was gold,” she said, understanding. “That’s why you ran. You were scared.

 

Stein chewed at the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper, a familiar sensation, but one that seemed to coat his teeth and choke him in a way it never had. “You. . .you exist.”

 

“It can’t be. . .it can’t be that what I’m feeling is just a. . .just a spell.” Marie’s expression just about broke him, the way her eyes drooped, even the prosthetic. It was as though he had sucked all the light and love out of her entire being. “It can’t be. . .No. It isn’t. I- I really like you. That’s not because of spell. It’s because you’re you,” she said, conviction in her words, but Stein curled his hands into fists, forcing his voice to harden.

 

It was choking him, too, but he swallowed it down, shoved everything he felt, everything he had ever felt, down deep deep deep, to where he didn’t have to worry about it or think about it. Where his voice could be steady. “No. It’s a spell,” he said, bluntly, and she winced away as though the mere word hurt her. “It's not real. And if you decide to remain, I would assume it to be because of the spell and-“ he paused, here, taking in how Marie swallowed, hard, looking betrayed and hurt. “And you wouldn't know if it was because I didn't want to go to prison.”

 

Marie sucked in a harsh gasp of air, her arms coming around her as though a shield. She was so small, he realized. It was a fact he had clearly understood and noted when he first saw her. But in that moment, she seemed even smaller than before. As though drained of everything. “That’s not true. I know it’s because- I know I’d stay because I- I like you. And you don’t want to go to prison but you confessed, anyway!” she said, trying to make him see reason.

 

“Marie. Stop.”

 

“Frank,” she said, but it sounded more like a plea. “You’re scared. I get that. All relationships have problems, right?”

 

He laughed, mirthlessly. How was he not surprised that she chose to be so positive in the light of what was practically him revealing that all her emotions were a lie?

 

“No, Marie. You aren’t nearly as convinced in your convictions as you believe,” he said, his gaze unblinking. “You have no idea, do you? Is it magic or your own emotions? Serotonin and oxytocin or lavender and rosemary?”

 

Marie bit at her lip, shaking her head. “Who cares which it is?” she asked. “Who cares? I don’t have to know. . .I don’t have to know. Why don’t we just. . .why don’t you do what you do and I do what I do and we can just. . .see where we end up?”

 

There was a hopefulness on her face, just the slightest scrap, but there was no way he could nurture that. Marie was warm and kind and he couldn’t help but remember how she felt pressed against him, her back to the wall, her hands on his shoulders. She had been so alive and responsive, feeling like liquid heat beneath his fingertips, breathing hard against his lips.

 

And it was all a damn lie. It was just a fabrication from the start.

 

“No, Marie,” Stein said, and this time, he knew the very words hurt her, because he saw, in real time, how her hope died.

 

“. . .right,” she said, looking down and bringing her arms around her in a defensive stance, swallowing hard. And for a moment, he allowed himself to give into temptation, to look at how her throat bobbed, but she nodded once more and her expression closed off to him. “Right.”

 

Stein thought he could make out what looked like the slightest sheen in her eyes, even the prosthetic, but she turned away from him before he could confirm the suspicion, and his throat was dry as he watched her walk away.

 

Maybe this was how Spirit felt when Kami-

 

But, no, that was selfish of Stein. Spirit and Kami actually had something. Spirit and Kami were in love. Stein and Marie were- they were nothing. He was nothing to her. Just poppy petals and rosemary that clung to her brain, forcibly attracting him to her.

 

And, yet, he couldn’t look away as she walked from him. He memorized the way she swayed, one foot before the other in a graceless stride, her shoulders back, head lifted.

 

Until she stopped completely, as though frozen. And when she looked over her shoulder, he could see the pain etched on her face.

 

“I know you’re scared. You have a lot to be scared about. Love is scary. Relationships are scary. And your family. . .Curses only have power when you believe in them, Frank. And I don't,” she said, the conviction in her voice iron-strong, and he cringed, closing his eyes and turning his cheek to her, as though willing her to leave and never come back, wanting for the gaping, aching wound she left in her wake to simply close. When her voice rung out, softer than he had ever heard it, and sadder, too, it almost broke him.

 

“If you ever change your mind. . .I’ll be here. And, you know what?” Marie asked, “I don’t give a shit _what_ spell you cast. _I_ wished for _you_ , too.”

 

And his nails dug into his palms so deep, the blood pooled up.


	8. Chapter 8

He should have stayed in Nevada, where he could be a doctor, isolated and invested solely in his work and experimentation he was slowly gathering the rights to for further thesis work. He had done everything right. Graduated early, got scholarships, landed the residency that all the other students would slaughter him for. He got licensed, got the highest score on the MCAT in recent history.

 

And now he was-

 

not _moping_ , certainly, but he kept staring at the place she had left, bringing his fingers up to his lips absentmindedly, remembering the taste of her mouth. Like brown sugar. It must have been her lip balm. He never bothered with it, so that sweetness had to have come from her. His palms tingled, remembering the heat of her skin, her stomach, how responsive she was to his touch. And-

 

He had to stop thinking. He never should have come back. If he hadn’t returned, then Spirit wouldn’t have left and found Medusa, the bitch, and then Marie never would have come into his life and this entire mess would be completely avoided.

 

He didn’t know how long he’d stayed out there, just that the sun was starting to set, and his shoulders sagged. He didn’t both thinking of the time. Instead, he was simply staring out into nothing. Closing his eyes periodically and remembering.

 

Until the kids showed up, again. Quiet as anything. Tentative steps, so unlike them. His eyes immediately snapped open to see his niece and nephew standing there, looking paler than death.

 

“Maka? Maka, what’s going on?” Stein asked, feeling a sick sense of déjà vu.

 

Maka was shaking. “It’s Papa- he- he told us to- to tie him down and then- he started acting really weird and- and now he’s laughing really hard and-“

 

Stein got up, instantly. “Where is he?”

 

“In the- in the living room,” Maka said, her fingers intertwined with her brother’s, and even Blake looked unsettled. Stein looked at him, and nodded.

 

“Were you a big man? Did you help your sister?” he asked, and Blake nodded, but Stein could see even he was shaken up. It seemed as though he had been completely drained of life, his usual exuberance faded like an old photograph.

 

“Y-yeah.”

 

“Good. Call the Uncles. I’m going to help your father. Stay out of the house if you can help it,” Stein commanded, standing up and shoving whatever convoluted feelings he had for Marie out of his mind. There was no time for that, now. If he’d had a bad feeling when he first left her flat, when Spirit was first overtaken by Medusa, now it felt-

 

it was instantly worse. He should have known. Marie left. Her star, her talisman, her own brand of magic going with her, and with that went the final scraps of protection.

 

Stein made sure to herald the kids into the kitchen, first, where the phone was, and shut the door behind him. His commands to call the Uncles certainly didn’t fall on deaf ears, because he heard Maka scrambling around, even through the closed door.

 

Inside of him, the adrenaline was churning, but he managed to shut down into the same mindset he was in when he was about to perform a complicated surgery. His face was set, expression neutral as he finally walked into the living room, and Spirit looked him dead in the eye, smirking. Looking snake-like.

 

Well, Maka had been right. He’d been tied down, sloppily, it looked like, but effectively enough. Besides, Medusa would know that, now, being in Spirit’s body, she wasn’t going to leave. Restraints meant nothing. She was hurting him just by being herself.

 

“Medusa,” he said, simply, and Spirit smirked wider at him.

 

“My, my, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Did you like my roses? Oh- and where’s your little girlfriend?” he asked, laughing suddenly.

 

Stein breathed in hard through his nose, looking at his brother reduced to such a state. This was the boy he grew up with, the one who he could actually talk to, if he ever bothered to, and now he was sweating and tired, his hair in his face, puling at his restraints.

 

When he opened his mouth, it was with a dry sort of chuckle, the kind that sounded like a tomb opening. “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” he said, licking at his lips, which were dry and chapped, his skin looking clammy. “It’s a hell of an expression,” he continued, laughing. “You know, I'm feeling _very_ into brothers right now.” Stein felt chills run up his spine when he realized it was a combination of Spirit’s and Medusa’s voices mixed together but Spirit’s came through just the tiniest bit more. Hearing his brother, his _brother_ say such things to him sent disgust sweeping through him.

 

“Get out of him,” Stein said, standing the entire room away, glaring, and Spirit- Medusa, snorted.

 

“He loves me,” he said. “He wants to be with me, forever.”

 

“He killed you.”

 

“So did you. What a _rush_ ,” he finished, licking his lips again, and Stein felt the revulsion roil through him, a curse on his tongue before he heard the door open and two shadows were cast long in the dwindling light.  


“Oh, dear,” he heard, and when he finally flicked his gaze to the side, seeing Uncle Death standing at one side of him, Excalibur no doubt on the other, he felt some of his muscles relax.   


“It seems you've not arrived in the nick of time,” Excalibur said. “Naturally, if you had listened to me, we would have returned more promptly-“  


“I see our-“

 

“Your-“ Excalibur insisted, only to be ignored as Death continued.

 

“-instincts are getting a little rusty,” Death finished, throwing his bag down onto the ground.

 

“You think?” Stein asked as Death stepped forward, watching as Spirit’s expression morphed into, somehow, something more smug. Stein never wanted to hit his brother more.

 

“The kids called us while we were on our way. Nearly died with how fast we started to speed. They’re in a safe place, of course. With Marcus’ rope. Now. . .are you finally going to inform us what happened?” Death asked, not taking his eyes off of his nephew. “Because if we don’t know exactly, we can’t help.”

 

“That. . .fling Spirit had. Melissa.”

 

“What of her?” Excalibur asked, shedding his own cloak.

 

“She was a murderer.”

 

“Oh, you flatter me,” Spirit added in, but Death ignored him.

 

“That explains nothing.”

 

“We- there were complications when I went to retrieve him from her. She left the bruise,” Stein added, and Death slowly nodded, his expression going cold and unforgiving just as Excalibur’s shoulders tensed. “We put too much belladonna in her drink to subdue her.”

 

“And she died.”

 

“And she died. Had already entered into algor mortis.”

 

“And you tried to revive her,” Excalibur said, finally putting the pieces together.

 

“Ding ding ding,” Spirit-Medusa added, cackling.

 

“Succeeded, really,” Stein continued. “Then killed her again. Buried her under the rose bushes. Now this shit happened.”

 

“So her spirit is squatting inside him. . . like a toad.”

 

“I prefer a snake,” Spirit said, and Death shot him a harsh look before turning that harsh look on Stein.   


“This is what comes from dabbling! You can't practice witchcraft while you look down your nose at it!” he said, angry expression not letting up. “You hadn’t practiced in years and thought you could come in and perform dark magic?”  


“Yes, well, too late for those warnings,” Stein all but snarled. “Just- fuck, tell me what to do.”  


“We must banish her,” Excalibur said, and Death sighed, nodding.  


“Force her spirit back to the grave.”  


“We need a full coven,” Stein realized, looking at his uncles.   


“Nine people,” Excalibur told him.  


“For this job? No. Twelve's better,” Death butt in, and after a moment, he looked at Stein. “Do you have any friends?”

 

“Not really,” Stein admitted. “But. . .Spirit does.”

* * *

 

“I see headlights!” Blake said, all but jumping up and down. After the Uncles had come back, everything was thrown into motion. The old cauldron, even, had been brought out, and Spirit was dragged into the center of the room, a circle of salt spread around him after the restraints had been removed.  Stein, in the meantime, had flipped through Spirit’s little black book and called everyone he possibly could that might listen. Even the ones who he knew were on poor terms with Spirit.   


“Uncle Stein! Uncle Stein, they're here!” Maka repeated, from her spot by the mantle, also turning to yell into the kitchen, where Death was boiling some foul smelling concoction. “Come on!” Maka bellowed. “They're here!”  


Stein wiped his hands on his pants, walking over to the door. It had been a long shot to call anyone at all, but- well, there were some people he knew cared for his brother. When he threw the kitchen door open, seeing Blair, Risa, and Arisa, the three women smiled at him, holding out two brooms and a vacuum. “Will this do?” they asked, and Stein nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.

 

“Yes, that should be acceptable.”

 

“Where is he?” Blair asked, walking into the house and looking around before she glanced back at her wives, smiling. “Come on. We have to help Spirit.”

 

“It’s so cool in here!” Arisa admitted, slowly walking in, and Stein closed his eyes for a moment. He might never had made connections, but Spirit was right. He had lived his life. While Stein had spent his in shadows. Just as he went to close the door, however, he felt a thud against it.

 

“Hey,” a deeper voice called out, and Stein looked up.

 

“Sid? You came?”

 

“You called me,” he said, sheepishly. Stein was surprised. Sid was the first person he called, mostly because Stein actually knew the man, but also because he was Spirit’s first boyfriend. The two of them had, unlike all of Spirit’s other flings, broken up on good terms.

 

“I did,” Stein nodded, and when he looked behind him, he noticed there was a line.

 

Mifune, Free and his wife Eruka, both, no doubt having left their child, who was so often seen strapped to Free’s chest, with his mother, and Auntie. Adding in him and the uncles, that made for eleven. But it didn’t seem as though anyone else was showing up-

 

“We have everyone here, Uncle Stein,” Maka said, smiling up at him, and Stein looked down.

 

“Maka, I’m afraid you miscounted. There are only eleven here.”

 

“No,” Maka insisted. “Twelve.”

 

“Maka-“

 

“Me. I’m the twelfth.”

 

Stein’s brows went up. “Pardon?”

 

“I promised Papa I wouldn’t let him fall,” she said, simply, and Stein knew she was bubbling with magical power, her big, green eyes determined. The girl could work miracles.

 

Maybe he should let her.

 

Stein nodded, and Maka grinned, and he saw Blake from the corner pouting, muttering likely about how he didn’t need magic, but Death came over to him and said something that smoothed the wound over. Probably that he was going to be their big bodyguard.   


“Come in!” Death said to the room, ushering them into the kitchen, first Free and then the rest of them, watching as they marveled at the house. “It's so good of you to come. No, now's not the time to be shy. Come on in. Grab yourselves a spoon. You can stir right over there. You get right over here and grab that spoon and dig right in,” he said, directing Blair over the cauldron. The woman had showed up in a small, pointed purple hat. Poor taste, but fitting. Death grinned at her. “Doesn't that look great? And the fumes are great for the pores. Not to mention sealing her nasty spirit back into the grave.”  


“You know, once, I was across town and my daughter had a nightmare,” Free said as Eruka reached for various spices. “I swear, I could hear her crying.”  


“There's a little witch in all of us, I guess,” Arisa added, and Risa grinned in response.   


Stein still felt sick. The cheer in the room, though genuine, felt inappropriate when Spirit was suffering just a room away.

 

“Everything's almost ready, Uncy Death,” Blake said, standing up tall.

 

“Thank you for telling me, Blake. You’ve been the best helper of all,” Death said, smiling kindly before he looked up. Excalibur came over to the cauldron, looking inside, and after a moment, looked at his brother from across the room, nodding.   


“Okay,” Death said. “Everyone. It’s time to begin. Grab your brooms. Follow me. We have to form a circle.”  


And, slowly, like a funeral procession, they walked into the living room, looking at the man in the middle. Spirit looked worse than before, clearly fighting. His skin had paled significantly and his hair was stringy, his eyes bloodshot when he opened them.

 

“Holy shit. . .” Blair breathed out, her eyes sympathetic and sad.   


“I've been strung out before but. . .not like this. . .” Eruka said, clutching her husband’s hand, and Stein could see how Free squeezed her hand back as they all came up to the salt barrier.   


“Each of you pick up your brooms,” Excalibur commanded. “Hold them at staff length.”

 

Stein could see how most of the people in the circle were immensely confused, and so he held his broom out at the appropriate length, and the rest of them followed as Death continued giving instructions.

 

“That’s right, handle to brush. Remember-“ he said, looking at everyone across the circle, even little Maka, who was standing on very tip toes to be able to reach, but looking incredibly strong, nonetheless “remember as we go forth,” he continued, “that it is only with our hearts beating as one that we can save him.”

 

“Recite after us,” Excalibur said, finally, starting up the chant. And this time, it was old magic. The kind that Stein could feel course through him, through the brooms where they touched, the joints of the circle. It was a language not even he knew, and he knew Yiddish and German, Hebrew, English, and Latin. This was old. Older than anything he had ever encountered before. Suddenly, Death- his Uncle Dante, seemed as old as time, as old as Death itself, and Excalibur the same, seemingly forged from the steel of his namesake.

 

Maka mouthed the words along, clearly not understanding, but the first to follow along.   


“Are we supposed to say this?” he heard someone, Sid, whisper, but it only took him a minute to follow along as Death nodded, and it was as though Stein had been transported in time, this coven of people, all looking instantly more fierce-

 

and then he heard the shriek, looking down into the circle where Spirit was writhing, clawing at his throat. Stein’s heart clenched in minor panic, a reaction he wasn’t used to as Spirit’s muscles went tense, and the pain on his face was clear. When his brother opened his eyes, his green, green eyes, the same as Stein’s, the same as Maka’s, those eyes that connected them even though Stein got everything else from his mother and nothing from his father, not like Spirit- that only connection, something flashed in them that was undoubtedly Spirit. No Medusa, not for a moment as Spirit sobbed, begging for help.   


“Stop,” Stein said, suddenly, but everyone, even Maka, in the circle were rocking and chanting, so Stein dropped his broom. “Stop it! You’re killing him.”  


The circle gasped, instantly broken with Stein dropping his broom, and as though moving off of muscle memory, the person beside him, Risa, immediately stepped to the side, colliding her broom with Maka’s. Just in time, too, to seal the circle, because whatever had been Spirit for that single moment faded instantly, and his eyes flashed, snake-like, angry. He crawled his way, lightning fast, to the opening before Risa closed it, screaming, “Fight this, you bastard!”, and it was an unearthly wail, leaving Stein to fall back against the wall as Spirit collided with the salt circle and the broom circle both, shrieking in pain before being thrown  back.  


“Oh, God! Oh, God!” Maka said, shaking, and Death looked into the circle with old eyes that had seen too much in the world as Spirit- actual Spirit and not Medusa, writhed about, curling in on himself and sobbing.   


The sight was heartbreaking in of itself, but especially when Spirit finally turned his head to look at his brother and no one else, tears streaking down his face, hair askew, arms wrapped around him.

 

“Please,” he begged, voice raggedy and all his own. “Please, just let her take me,” he sobbed, and Stein swallowed.   


“No,” Stein said, simply, to which Spirit only sobbed harder.   


“She wants. . . _me_. Just me.”

 

“Shut up, Spirit-“ Stein said.  


“Everyone will be safe,” Spirit pleaded. “My daughter and son. . .you. . .everyone. . .just let her. . .take me.”  


Something shattered on Stein’s face. “You promised me once that we would die on the same day and I have no intention of that being today, Spirit.”

 

But Spirit only shook his head, curling in closer, and Stein closed his eyes, remembering that night when Spirit looked so fresh-faced and innocent, excited for the world that broke him. Before Kami, before too many boyfriends and girlfriends who ended up resenting him, before Medusa- there was only Stein an Spirit and a single bet made in blood and-

 

Stein looked up. “I have an idea,” he said, looking at his uncles. “Put the brooms on the ground. By the salt.”

  
And without any pomp or circumstance, Stein sauntered off to the kitchen, leaving everyone confused, but to do what was told, all the brooms jointed together, keeping Spirit confined before Stein returned with what looked like a bottle of tequila and a knife. 

 

“Um- Uncle Stein? What’s the plan?” Maka asked, and Stein stood tall, rolling his shoulders.

 

“The plan is that you and Blake go into the kitchen and prepare the cauldron.”

 

Maka looked hurt. “But-“

 

“Now, Maka,” Stein commanded, and after a moment, Blake was the one to grab her hand and yank her away.

 

“It’s for the old man,” Blake said, his affectionate nickname for his father, and Stein looked Death in the eyes when the kids left, closing the door behind them.

 

“Open the circle for me. Just one broom. And when you deem it fit, you throw me in there.”

 

“No-“ Blair started, looking aghast. “Not while he’s like that-“

 

“Am I clear, Dante?” Stein said, and Death looked down at his nephew in the circle and his nephew standing before him and nodded.

 

“You better know what you’re doing.”

 

“I don’t,” Stein admitted, but he got down on his knees, anyway, stooping low. “Move the broom,” he said, and Risa complied, looking to make sure that Arisa and Blair were okay with it as Stein uncorked the bottle he was holding with his teeth, spitting the stopper out and taking a fast swill, making absolutely no expression at the taste. Instead, he nudged the bottle closer to the salt circle, dispersing it and leaving an opening.

 

“Oy. Medusa,” he said, eyes hateful. “I heard you might like this.”

 

In the circle, Spirit rolled over to look at him, but the expression was all Medusa, her eyes and her smirk. Slowly, Spirit got on all fours, slowly crawling over, smelling the alcohol. And, more importantly, the opening in the circle. The tenseness was the worst of it, how Stein’s muscles were knotted. One wrong move and she was released upon all of them. “Hey,” he continued. “You thirsty? Is this what you want?”

 

Only when Medusa finally realized what was going on did she- Spirit, start to move, and there was a manic look in his eyes as he started moving faster and faster, movements jerky and erratic as he all but jumped for the opening, and Stein tossed the bottle away, instead reaching for the knife. In a split second, he grabbed at Spirit’s wrist, leaving him struggling, but the spell earlier had sapped him completely of strength. “Your blood,” Stein muttered, slashing at Spirit’s palm, leaving him to howl before he slashed at his own, the blood welling up, likely all too much. “My blood,” he continued, and finally, slapped both of their hands together. “Our blood. You wanted a promise, Spirit! Well, here it is!” he said, and Death yelled.   


“Now! Push him in! Fast! And seal up the circle!”

 

Stein couldn’t feel anything save for the angry, frantic pulse of magic that strung through him, always a part of him, like a DNA helix he could never unwind. And, for the briefest moment, as someone closed the circle and the entire inside flashed white while he held his brother, not knowing when he’d thrown his arm around Spirit, only knowing that he did, he swore he could see the face of. . .someone. Someone with green eyes like him and a rope round his neck, smiling.

* * *

 

The flash only lasted a moment, but it felt like eternity when Spirit finally sagged against him and Stein fell back against the carpet, the both of them breathing hard and bleeding. But the cheers in his ears were inescapable.

 

“You did it!” someone said, and it sounded like Blair, and Stein lifted his head up, looking around before he felt Spirit shudder against him and hug him, tight.

 

“Thank you- thank you,” he mumbled, and Stein breathed his first sigh of relief in what felt like too long a time.

 

“You have shit taste in people,” Stein retaliated, and Spirit laughed, finally feeling like himself.   


“Uh. . .is that supposed to be there?” Risa asked, looking up at the ceiling, and suddenly everyone else did, too, seeing the crumbled remains of Medusa’s spirit floating near the ceiling and slowly falling down.

 

Excalibur smirked. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”   


“I wonder if that would work on my ex-husband?” Mifune asked, looking impressed, but Death just smiled.   


“I suppose it’s- ah, as you say, time to clean house, yes?”  


“Get her out of here!” Eruka yelled, though Blair was the first person to pick up a broom just as all the ashes came falling down around Stein and Spirit, who remained in the circle, drained of all energy while their coven swept Medusa out.   


“Through the kitchen!” they heard Excalibur proclaim, as though a mighty battle cry, and someone called for the kids to grab the cauldron, to throw it over the ashes after they swept Medusa to the roses, sealing her away forever.   


Spirit was still shaking, even through it all, but when Stein looked at his brother, he had a smile on his face.

 

“I mean it. . .thank you,” he said, and the house suddenly seemed the same as when they were children, only meant for them.

 

“Get better taste in hook ups,” Stein snarked, but Spirit shook his head.

 

“Always had some bad luck in love,” he said, but looked at Stein. “Can’t say the same for you.”

 

Stein looked away. Was now really the time? As Spirit’s children cheered outside, banishing the woman who terrorized their father, as this group of friends Spirit had collected all whooped and cheered and hollered. To think of Marie. . .

 

“I think,” Spirit started, looking out somewhere, remembering, “you broke the curse.”

 

“What?”

 

“You didn’t see him? Marcus.”

 

Stein blinked. “Oh.”

 

“Oh,” Spirit repeated, and grinned at his brother. “You know. . .I think I’m done with hook-ups for a looooong while. I might have to live vicariously through you, instead.”

 

Stein only shook his head. But, fuck, it felt nice to have his damn brother back. Snark and all.

* * *

 

It was three weeks later that Stein realized all the roses had withered and died, leaving nothing but lush grass. They’d tried to dig Medusa up, but found nothing but dirt. Her body, like her soul, had simply disintegrated. And the part of him that was all science and pragmatism found that ridiculous. But the part that was magic, the part that shared DNA with Spirit and Death and Excalibur- well, that part knew better.

 

Now, he was simply sitting outside, looking out at the horizon. He thought it might be best if he stayed home, for a while. The kids liked him well enough, and their town was in need of a good surgeon. Every town was, especially for one with such a glowing resume as his. He had put in applications for some nearby hospitals, waiting for them to get back to him, but he wasn’t really too concerned. Something was just. . .missing.

 

“Oi,” Spirit said, nudging at Stein with his calf, jolting the man slightly. When Stein looked up, it was to see Spirit waving around an envelope. “Guess what, Mr. Hermit. There's something for you. From Arizona.”

 

“Arizona?” he asked, and something clicked in his brain. Lavender, brown sugar, heat tingling his palms. As though on autopilot, Stein reached up and snatched it from Spirit’s hands, ignoring his brother’s smirk as he read over his shoulder, the both of them taking in the news.   


_"Dear Frank Enstein-Morte,_  
  


_Regarding any further investigations for Melissa Gorgon, the office hereby concluded that her cause of death was accidental. Jewelry in the ashes of a crumbled structure provided positive identification._

_  
Sincerely, Marie Mjolnir,_

_Special Investigator.”_

  
Stein swallowed hard, looking over the letter twice, a third time. Nothing. Just an address that was certainly not an office and a hand-written letter with her i’s dotted with hearts. Quickly, he looked back into the envelope, finding nothing but the ring Medusa once wore, the one that was spat out, the one that brought him to Marie’s apartment and to her table, to her hands, to her mouth-

 

Stein keep looking for. . .he didn’t know. But Spirit’s voice was soft when he informed him. “I don't think she's in there,” he said, finally, and Stein stopped everything he was doing in favor of dropping his hands to his lap. The sun setting was the exact color of her hair. Like sunshine, he remembered, he’d written as a boy.

 

Magic was powerful, that way. In the end, it had been him that asked for her. Him that wanted her. Maybe out there somewhere, she had felt the petals he’d collected come onto her skin, perhaps when she lost her eye, or when she whistled his favorite song, when her eyes were gold and brown and she played pretend at being a police officer, loving the shape of her badge.

 

She said she’d wished for him, too.

 

There was some witch in everyone, wasn’t there? Why not her? Why couldn’t it have been that they’d wished for each other? And, like she said, who cares if it was magic or hormones, so long as it they felt it, either way?

 

He was becoming mushy like Spirit’s damn romance novels. The bodice rippers haunting his nightmares.

 

But, well. . .it wasn’t wrong, was it?  


“. . .What would you do?” he asked, finally, and he couldn’t see how Spirit was smiling at him, but he could practically feel it as his brother nodded off into the horizon, his voice smug but understanding.   


“Eh, the real question is what WOULDN’T I do. You know, for the right person?” Stein finally opened his eyes, looking at his brother. “Plus, I have to live vicariously through you, if you don’t remember.”

 

“Yeah?” Stein asked, not falling for his jab for even an instant, too caught up in his own head before Spirit’s words cut through them.

 

“You wished for her, didn’t you? And I think she wished for you, too.”  


* * *

 

Spirit didn’t know when he’d become his Uncles, but all three of them were sitting inside of the kitchen, watching as Stein was on the porch, waiting. Waiting and waiting and waiting.

 

“When was she supposed to be here?” Lord Death asked, scowling as he looked at his watch.

 

“Who even knows?”

 

“Oh, who cares so long as she shows up!” Spirit proclaimed. Sure, they’d all encouraged Stein to send her a letter, give her a call, even, when they found out the kids still had her number, but in the end, he had sent it of his own accord. It was only when a different letter showed up, this one perfumed and all too joyous, that they had any idea that Marie would be returning. Naturally, they’d hidden the letter that told Stein exactly what date she’d be there, but he’d sat on the porch every day since he sent it.

 

God, how romantic. For a man of pragmatism and science, he sure could be a hell of a softie.

 

“Is Miss Marie gonna be Auntie Marie?” Maka asked, all but bouncing. There they were, three generations of Mortes, all waiting for the first relationship, the first love in their family that would actually be happy.

 

“If she ever shows up!” Excalibur said.

 

“Shhh! Shhh! I think she’s coming!” Death said, ending their bickering because he saw how Stein had stood up, and, immediately, the entire family was pressing their faces to the glass.

 

“Is she here?” Blake asked.

 

“She’s here!” Lord Death gleefully exclaimed, and Spirit whistled when he saw her. If he thought her uniform was attractive, or her in jeans or a casual skirt, seeing her in a relatively low cut top and a long skirt that hugged at her hips was a hell of a sight for sore eyes.

 

Spirit was smiling as Stein took a tentative step forward and Marie looked radiant as she walked toward him, slow as anything, but slowly getting faster and faster and faster until, suddenly, they collided, stopping in the middle of the yard. Something about it was so unlike Kami and him. They’d run toward each other, motivated by a spell not their own, nothing but fire and passion and too much heat. Stein and Marie had their own spell, but Spirit had a feeling they were meant to be, with or without Amas Veratis.

 

The tentativeness with how his brother reached out, as though she wasn’t real, or would turn to smoke in his hands made his heart throb, but Marie grabbed his hand and pressed it to her cheek. After a moment, something flashed on her face and Spirit was sure his brother would hear an earful about what an ass he was and how he’d worried her, but she had already started leaning up.

 

And, because it had to be, because his brother deserved the clichés and the happy endings, he bent down, scooping her up so she could grasp his face in her palms and kiss him. Hard, from the looks of things, too. The Uncles awwwed just as Maka and Blake started jumping up and down.

 

Spirit, who had known so much love in his life, lifted his kids onto his lap just as they started to clap for their uncle, who had only kissed Marie back, holding her up in the air with just one arm as his free hand came to the back of her head. Spirit’s eyes crinkled at the corners.

 

He knew there would be no curse on her shoulders. No tragedy at the end. None for his little girl or his son, none for his brother, none for Marie.

 

Spirit had known love. It had been taken from him, it had been twisted in him, and now, now he had his kids. And his Uncles who were as good as any parents ever could be, and his brother. He knows love, now.

 

They carry it in them, like blood that breaks curses, or lavender petals.

 

Or wishes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> words cannot even explain how happy i was to finish this, ngl. good lord, i am so finished with all things writing and resbang related. i'd say i need to take a 10 year long nap, but i still have two more resbangs to publish

**Author's Note:**

> Art is by the wonderful innocentcinnamonbun.tumblr.com! <3 She's been a sweetheart to work with, and she has more art posted http://innocentcinnamonbun.tumblr.com/post/156328678462/here-are-my-drawings-for-dollypopup-s on her tumblr! Please check her out, because she's the bomb dot com!
> 
> Thank you for being my partner!
> 
> And thank you all for reading!


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